EraserMic - The Way I Behaved
by AkatsukiMemberWoolfy
Summary: Aizawa is a tired barista by day, and an equally tired hero by night. Hizashi is planning his big debut as the villain Present Mic! His first task? Kill the hero Eraserhead! But what will he do once he finds out the barista he's taken a shine to is the hero he's sworn to destroy? Will he turn over a new leaf, or use the situation to his own advantage? Barista!Aizawa and Villain!Mic
1. Butterscotch Latte

So...This is a thing! I'm very new to BNHA in general, but I really love these guys and just kinda felt the urge to write this between working on As White as Blood! ...Enjoy chapter 1!

**EraserMic - The Way I Behaved**

Chapter One

_"But I say to myself when there's time for a word,_

_As I gracefully grow more debauched and depraved:_

_Love may be strong, but a habit is stronger_

_And I knew when I loved by the way I behaved."_

\- Peter S. Beagle, _The Last Unicorn_

**Butterscotch Latte**

Working at the coffeeshop had been a logical choice, if not an inspired one. To live he needed the three basics: food, shelter, coffee. Copious amounts of coffee, in fact – probably enough to kill a weaker man. However, his tight budget only allowed for two of those three necessities. Fortunately, the owner of the joint offered a hefty employee discount, meaning Shouta Aizawa could effectively continue his caffeine addiction without forgoing any other basic-human-needs.

As a kid, he'd never imagined this would be his life at thirty, but here he was and he seldom complained.

He didn't _hate_ working at the Extroverted Hermit: he could relate to most customers, especially those fellow workaholic zombies who arrived first thing in the morning. So long as the coffee was hot and caffeinated, they never gave him trouble. It was the perky customers who gave him trouble, especially the throngs of women who would ask far too many personal questions for his liking. He wasn't one to bend over backwards at every customer's request – unlike his co-workers - but he did the work courteously, casually, and professionally. The hours kept him busy and on a good day he could manage five hours of sleep before his _real _job began.

No, he didn't hate working there, but he didn't exactly _like _it either. He'd once worked at a cat café, but that had been four years ago, and he'd been fired for yelling at a customer who'd been improperly handling one of the younger felines.

Had he overreacted? Yes. Had the customer deserved it? Also yes. Had he deserved to lose his job over it? According to his old boss: Yes.

That hadn't been a good day for him, although he supposed working with humans and solely humans was safer for his image, if not his sanity.

"You really need to get more sleep," said his younger co-worker. It was close to closing and they were the only two still in the small shop. She was busting out the old vacuum already, while Aizawa was drying up the waterglasses and storing them on the rack for tomorrow. "Your eyes are so bloodshot, people probably think you're a druggie, and seriously, you don't have bags under your eyes, you have-"

"Suitcases," he answered in his distinctive monotone. He'd heard it a million times from her, other employees and even some (very rude) customers.

"You should really do something about your looks too. The company policy ponytail's nice, but you need to shave. Either grow a beard or get rid of it – stubble makes you look like a hobo. I think you're scaring away customers." She sniffled and suddenly sneezed. A great burst of fire lit up the carpet, but a few quick stomps put it out.

"I think you scare them off without my help."

"Right, pick on the fire Quirk." She rubbed her nose. "I think I'm getting a cold. What's your Quirk anyway? Don't think I've ever asked, TBH."

"Don't have one," he lied as he placed another few cups away.

"Really? I'm so jelly! Being Quirkless is better than having a busted Quirk like mine. What were we talking about? Oh, right, you also need to smile more."

In answer, Aizawa stretched his mouth and forced himself to grin.

His co-worker looked mortified. "On second thought, forget it, just be a damn hobo. Ladies prefer a man they think they can help anyway, even if I know there's no helping you." He relaxed his mouth back into its usual line and finished drying up the last of the glasses. "You able to flip the sign, hobo?"

He grunted and went to comply, but was interrupted by the small bell above the door: a final customer. Aizawa was about to call out that they were closed, but one look at the man who entered made him stop.

The man could only be described, unfortunately, as an eyesore. His dyed blond hair was wrangled into a messy bun, his glasses were framed so thickly they could've inspired crime scenes, and his clothes were so colourful they made Aizawa's eyes _literally sore_. He had to look away, lest he end the shift with an insufferable migraine.

His co-worker jumped to do her job. "Hello sir," she said in her too-happy customer-service voice. "Unfortunately we're closing, but-"

The man walked past her and leaned against the counter like he was some sort of celebrity. "Hey," he said casually as his vibrant green eyes peered through the thick glasses to size up Aizawa. "A drink. Takeaway. Large."

"We're closed," he said bluntly, refusing to give in to the obnoxious smear.

"Well we haven't cleaned the machine yet," said his co-worker, unhelpfully. "If it's just something for takeaway it should be okay."

"Thanks, darling," the blond said as he waved his hand at her, although he kept his body facing Aizawa. He had a very small moustache, blond like the rest of his unruly hair. Okay, maybe he was a natural blond, but that still didn't give him the right to wear rainbow-vomit clothes. "Oi, if you could have any coffee in the world, what would it be?"

"Twenty shots of expresso in a single cup," Shouta answered honestly. It was his usual.

_That _made the eyesore doubletake. He glanced Aizawa up and down, squinted at his name badge, and straightened up a little. "Okay, just give me anything you'd recommend for someone you _don't _want to find dead in a dumpster."

"You allergic to anything?"

"Phone numbers of cute baristas," he said out of the blue with an audacious wink. "So definitely _don't _give me yours."

"If you insist," he murmured and very clearly _didn't _write down his number as he went to make the eyesore a drink. He was used to women trying to flirt with him – emphasis on _trying_ \- but in all his years working in coffeeshops, this was the first time a man had made the effort. While his gender alone put him ahead of the 'competition', his blatant disregard for their trading hours immediately crushed what miniscule interest Aizawa might've had.

"You aren't gonna ask for my name?" questioned the blond. "You know, to put on the cup. What if someone else thinks my order's theirs?" The blond gestured vaguely to the empty room, as if it were crowded with other impolite customers who didn't know the meaning of the word **'closed'**.

Aizawa glanced around the café, but was too tired to bother arguing – it was the end of his shift and he hadn't slept for eighteen hours. "Name?"

"The name is Hizashi, baby!" He winked. Again.

The darkhaired man picked up the marker and scribbled something on the takeaway cup before he continued brewing.

For a time, the only noise was from the machine. His co-worker took it upon herself to flip the closing sign and wipe down the tables, postponing her vacuuming while there was a customer around. The man in question just leaned against the counter and watched him work, not that Aizawa had the energy to care.

He finished making the drink and purposely moved to the pick-up area, even though the blond was still at the register. "Order for 'Baby'," Aizawa called dryly. "Is there a 'Baby' here?"

His co-worker, upon hearing him, snorted out another burst of flame. Hizashi jumped at the unexpected Quirk and when he turned, Aizawa noticed he was wearing hearing-aids, although his glasses partially hid them. The blond made a clicking sound with his mouth and traipsed to the pick-up station. However, much to the insomniac's surprise, the man was clearly holding back a laugh.

"You're funnier than you look." He took the coffee – a butterscotch latte - and sipped it, despite how hot it must've been. "Good guess, Aizawa," the blond said while glancing again at his nametag. He pulled out some cash and smacked it down, "Keep the change."

Aizawa put the money in the register and slipped the remainder into the tip jar for all the employees to divide. "Got a loyalty card?"

"Nope and, as nice as this is, I won't be needing one."

"Good, because we're closed," he said coldly. "If you come back again, do so during business hours."

Hizashi sipped the coffee again and smiled. "If I come back, I'll make sure of it, _baby_." They watched as he left without further provocation required, and his co-worker physically slumped once he was out of sight.

"Oh man, we got visited by _him!_"

"'Him'?"

"Yeah, it's like a rite of passage for baristas," she claimed as she plugged the vacuum in at long last.

"He a critic?"

"More like an urban legend. Don't you have barista friends?"

"Are you asking if I specifically have barista friends, or if I have friends in general? The answer to both is no."

She groaned. "He comes in, gets a drink the barista recommends, and then leaves. I've heard he's never visited the same place twice!"

_That _sounded horrific and illogical. "Good riddance," he murmured as he started cleaning the coffee machine. "I hope I never see him again."

-x-

Aizawa hadn't planned to stay at the Capsule Hotel for longer than a month, but that had been ten years ago and his decision had changed. Staying there was cheaper than owning an apartment, and it had a laundromat, communal bathroom, a personal locker, wi-fi, charging points, hot water and a vending machine that exclusively dispensed instant noodles.

His 'room' was literally a human crawlspace with a pillow and his personal yellow sleeping bag, but when you only spent five hours of every day sleeping, having anything more was unnecessary. All he did all day, every day, was work.

His phone buzzed, the silent alarm waking him instantly to tell him it was now midnight. It was time for his _real _job to begin.

Aizawa climbed down from his pod, sealed it, and headed for the elevator. He was now dressed in complete black, with a 'scarf' tied around his neck. Goggles covered his face and hid his identity, while his hair was now free of his 'company policy ponytail'.

His schedule was strict. He'd start work at the Extroverted Hermit at 6am, finish at 6pm, have dinner and relax for an hour, sleep until midnight, patrol the streets for villains until 5am, get back and shower and then be at the café before opening.

By day he was a tired barista, but by night he was an equally tired hero.

Specifically, he was the underground hero known as Eraserhead, and it was his duty to stop all criminals in the area, whether they were Quirk users or just plain dickbags.

He followed his typical route through back alleys and rooftops, but that night was proving to be rather uneventful. When he'd been younger, he might've described it as _annoyingly _uneventful, although nowadays he was more thankful for quiet nights. If things were uneventful it meant no one was in danger.

Nevertheless, as soon as Aizawa settled on the idea it would be an uneventful night, the universe decided to change his mind.

He heard a man scream for help.

Eraser rushed to investigate, quickly finding himself in a derelict two-story warehouse. It was long since abandoned, the furniture cleared and left to stand the test of time. Eraser moved stealthily through dark corridors, his eyes hidden by his goggles and his ears tuned for the sound of danger. Everything was dark inside, but he was certain the scream had come from there. The door he approached gave way to a large room, but what he hadn't expected was for the floor to suddenly _not _be there.

Eraser was falling. If he did nothing, he'd surely die upon hitting the bottom of the dark pit. The scarf around his neck sprung out and dug into the cement sides - someone must've carved the deep hole through the very foundation of the dilapidated building. His descent slowed and he managed to land neatly, if not gracefully, on the ground below.

The darkness instantly vanished as a towering spotlight lit up overhead, temporarily blinding him with the sudden shift. The hole was deep and the ground was packed with fragments of pulverised concrete. He wouldn't be able to climb out the sides, but there was a metal beam in the roof where someone had hung the spotlight. It was tall, but he could reach it with his capture weapon if he launched himself high enough.

The main unsettling detail, of course, was that he wasn't alone down there.

Picking himself off the ground was a large, bulky man with reptilian skin, demonic horns and more muscles than your average appearance Quirk. Had _he_ carved out the hole? Small eyes landed on him and Eraser instantly knew there was no way he was going to get out without a fight.

"Welcome, _dear listeners_!" called an exuberant voice from above. Both Eraser and reptile-man looked up to see a dark shape leering over the side of the cavern. "Welcome to the show!"

-o-

This was his big debut, the moment Hizashi Yamada had been waiting on for years and years. This was the introduction of the soon-to-be-feared Voice Villain known succinctly as: **Present Mic**.

The hole had taken far too long to carve out, even with his vocal powers, but it would all be worth it for this moment. "Welcome to the show! In the left corner, we have the feared villain, Crocodile Dundee!" He paused to allow for imaginary cheers, before he turned to eye the other half of his _captive audience_. The man below had black, unruly hair, a scarf and golden goggles that covered half his face.

Mic was taken by surprise. He'd never heard of a hero who matched such a description, but only a hero would've jumped into action at his screams.

"And in the right corner, our fabulous hero…" Ah… "Black Hair!"

He was hoping for some sort of reaction from the hero, an offended shout clarifying what his _actual _title was, but there was nothing like that. In fact, 'Black Hair' didn't say anything at all.

Crocodile Dundee snapped his maws in Present Mic's direction, "Why're we here?"

"Well, my scaly listener, you're going to fight to the death!" Yes, this was going to be fun. The two would fight, and then just as the winner thought they'd live to see another day, Mic would break them to pieces! The bodies would be found in a few days with his calling card at the scene. He'd see his name across the news and his reign of terror would begin! His only annoyance was that his first hero target wasn't someone well known, so the press coverage would undoubtedly be lower than expected, but-

As he watched, Black Hair lunged at the villain. Mic's heart skipped a beat with excitement. He thought he'd need to convince a hero to kill a villain more thoroughly, but this guy hadn't needed _any _convincing!

However, his stomach dropped as he continued to watch.

The hero landed on the villain's shoulder and used the kneejerk reaction of the villain grabbing at him to leap even higher into the air. His scarf shot skyward and Mic watched in horror as it flew past him and wrapped around the beam high above, pulling the hero free of the pit.

The blond filled his lungs and tried to scream with his Quirk, but his voice refused to work. Shit, what was this? Why wasn't his quirk-

The hero was watching him through his goggles, his hair flying around him even as he shot upwards. Shit, was this his quirk?

He'd stopped his Voice Quirk somehow and he imagined it had something to do with his covered eyes. Not only that, but the hero was headed straight for him!

His mind raced as he tried to figure out how to escape, knowing he'd never be able to escape if-

Hizashi spun on his heel and bolted for the door. It was a gamble, but if he just had to break eye contact, then…

He reached the door moments before the hero reached him. His lungs swelled with oxygen. He spun on his heel. The door slammed shut. As soon as the hero was out of sight, Present Mic _screamed_. _"__**YEAH!**__"_

The speaker around his neck thrummed with his voice. The door flew away from him, along with the crumbling walls around it and even the metal frame. There was no way the hero could've predicted the sudden barrage, but Mic wasn't one to take chances as he turned tail and fled before the commotion attracted more heroes. The entire building shook and, to his surprise, began to collapse around him. Shit!

The blond leapt through a broken window and escaped being crushed by mere seconds. He tumbled to the ground, his breath coming out in ragged exhales as he promptly assessed the situation. Well, although things hadn't gone _exactly _to plan, there was no way the hero and villain would've survived_ that _catastrophe!

Hizashi picked himself off the sidewalk but had no time to even dust himself down as he fled, his mouth already salivating as he dreamt of the news reports that would come out tomorrow about his victory. After everything, he hadn't even realised he'd forgotten to leave his calling card at the scene.


	2. Matcha Strawberry Latte

Chapter Two

**Matcha Strawberry Latte**

"Guess he wanted to bring the house down," mumbled Eraserhead from where he precariously dangled. Blood streamed down his cheek where part of the door had splintered off and nearly impaled his face. His quick reflexes had saved him from an unwanted facial piercing (that would've probably cost him his life), but he hadn't avoided it entirely. He checked over his limbs but, besides the deep gash on his cheek and a few future bruises, he was perfectly functionable. With that boombox around the villain's neck, he'd sensibly predicted some sort of music or vocal Quirk, and he'd swung himself back just as the blast came through.

His ears were still ringing from the attack, the air vibrating like disharmonious hummingbird wings, but thankfully the bricks had taken the brunt of the impact and dampened the sound. He'd been thrown back into the pit with the crocodile villain, and when he'd tried to use his scarf to take hold of something, it'd been trapped beneath the thick slab of roof that now sealed the hole from above. There he now dangled from the edge of the pit, his capture weapon wrapped securely around his body, although he had to hold onto it with his right hand, lest he slip and fall.

"Well, we're not dead," he called to the villain below, "but we _are_ trapped, which is less ideal." The only reason the roof hadn't completely collapsed into the pit was thanks to the ceiling beam with its now broken spotlight. Eraserhead pulled out his phone but, although it helped illuminate the darkness, it picked up no signal. Damn thing was never useful when he needed it to be – it would probably spell his demise one day.

The crocodile snarled, "When I get my hands on that man, I'm gonna _eat _him!"

He had to devise a plan. Oxygen was limited, and although the collapsed building would attract attention, the others would have no way of knowing there were people inside until it was too late.

His Quirk was useless in such a situation and-

"Shit, you're bleeding!" called the criminal bellow. He could feel the red rivulets running down his face, the tingle of an open wound, but pure adrenaline extinguished most of the pain. Aizawa had worse scars. He went to say as much, but was interrupted by a low growl. Saliva dripped from the crocodilian jaws. "Smells _delicious!_"

His Quirk was useless in such a situation and his potential partner was a dangerous cannibalistic criminal. The universe officially hated him. Still, this could work to his benefit.

"Too bad I'm up here," he said casually. "I bet I _taste_ delicious too." Yeah, like coffee and cheap shampoo: _delicious._

The villain, Crocodile Dundee, roared his displeasure, and his beady eyes turned cloudy as all reason abandoned him. His clawed hands dug into the vertical wall and Aizawa watched – somewhat impressed – as the hulking figure desperately climbed towards him. The hero swayed back and forth on his scarf, creating momentum with every movement while he bided his time.

The villain, too frenzied to bother climbing the last few metres, leapt for him with jaws agape. Aizawa swung as far as he could. He evaded the villain's grasp by mere inches and the crocodile's thick horns slammed into the roof just shy of the beam. The villain went limp, but before he plummeted to the ground below, Eraser snagged him in his scarf and slammed them back against the wall, just as the ceiling caved in.

Aizawa shielded his face as debris poured into the pit, and the two survivors were only spared from the destructive landslide by being close to the wall.

Eraser held his breath. The sound ultimately stopped. When he opened his eyes, dust clouded the air and the pit was partially filled with debris. The crocodile villain dangled beneath him, unconscious but fortuitously unharmed. Aizawa lowered him to the ground, pulled out his titanium knife and freed his scarf from the rubble above. His feet landed on shifting plaster, but he regained his balance and cautiously evaluated the new escape route. The stars shone brightly in the sky above.

The unconscious Crocodile Dundee made a perfect springboard. Eraser leapt free of the pit and scrabbled for safety, although he never let himself relax until he checked his phone. The bars lit up as he received a signal and he sent for an emergency dispatch with his location attached.

After a good five minutes, the police arrived to find a worn-out Eraserhead and the villain Crocodile Dundee wrapped up in his scarf. The criminal was carted off and the wound beneath Eraser's right eye was treated while he gave a full report detailing the entire situation.

There was a new villain in town and Eraserhead had almost been his first victim.

-x-

The Next Day

The building's collapse _was _on the news. It wasn't the top story, or even the secondary story. In fact, his genius plan, his big debut, had been reduced to a forgettable line that cycled across the bottom of the news screen:

_Building Collapses in Seidara District – 2 with minor injuries. No casualties._

Both the villain and hero had survived a building falling on top of them with only _minor _**fucking** _injuries_. Nothing more was mentioned – no interview with the mysterious hero, no details about how they'd survived, and definitely no mention of the new villain on the loose.

This was _not _what he'd planned!

Hizashi pulled out his work laptop and went through about five different levels of encryption before he could finally access the secret website. It was just like Wikipedia: if Wikipedia had been made exclusively for villains, cost an arm and a leg to access, and detailed information on the various heroes of Japan. He tried a few different searches, but it was a while before he found an article that detailed a hero he'd never even heard of before.

Eraserhead, the Erasure Hero.

The blond had correctly guessed his ability. He could erase the Quirk of anyone he looked at but wore goggles so his enemies never knew where he was looking. Smart. It didn't mention anything about his hair defying gravity, but Mic was in no mood to add it to the site. The only new information he gleaned, besides his name, was that he was a veteran underground hero.

Of all the heroes he could've lured! No, he'd just picked the wrong area. It would be easy enough to repeat the plan in a different zone, where there would undoubtedly be a news-worthy hero to kill!

Hizashi rubbed his temples. So much for his big debut… He'd even bought a coffee at that place he'd been dying to try out in premature celebration! His eyes glanced to the cup he had yet to throw away. Even without his glasses, the kanji for 'Baby' was large and bold enough to read without squinting too much.

What'd been the barista's name? Aizawa.

Despite his anger, he actually smiled a little. Even though his entire plan had gone astray, it had been for the best. Now he could make an even grander entrance than he'd planned before. The Erasure hero had been lucky this time, but Hizashi no longer cared if he was just some small two-bit hero – he'd survived his debut, but he wouldn't let Eraserhead escape again.

-x-

Work was hell.

Every single customer asked Aizawa about the gauze pad beneath his right eye, but whenever he told them the 'truth' – that he'd been hit by a door – they just laughed like it was a bad joke.

He'd convinced the police not to disclose anything about the Present Mic villain until they had more information. Judging by his persona, the media attention would've only encouraged him. Unfortunately, Eraser hadn't offered much of a description. He just remembered black studded-leather, a wearable boombox and absurd orange shades.

The costume had been more memorable than the villain.

He was just about to take his well-deserved lunchbreak, when the bell jingled above the door and a new customer came in. Much to his surprise, it was the same eyesore who'd come in just after closing the previous day. His blond hair was tied again in a messy bun, but his colourful shirt was paired with a red jacket that somehow made his eyes hurt _more_. Wasn't this guy supposed to never visit the same coffeeshop twice?

The blond tittuped to the register and leaned against the counter with a smug grin. "I promised I'd come during work hours. Happy now?"

"I'd be happier if I never saw you again," Aizawa said without batting an eye. His fellow co-worker, an older woman with a Horn Quirk, shot him a daggered look and clearly mouthed out the words 'Customer-Service' before continuing to stock the bar with muffins.

On the contrary, the man didn't seem offended at all. In fact, he smiled. "Rough night?" He nodded at the gauze pad.

Aizawa grunted. "I wanted the door to hit _someone_ on the way out, but it hit me instead."

"Literally or figuratively?"

He paused, as if to carefully mull over the question, before he succinctly answered, "Both." The darkhaired man flicked his eyes beyond the blond and was almost relieved to find there weren't any customers lining behind him. Almost. "Order?"

"Give me a large of something you'd recommend," he said pleasantly, his cheery grin never faltering, although there was something unsettled about his appearance. Was he distracted by something? "Maybe this time you'll get lucky."

"Lucky?"

Hizashi winked. "Lucky enough to guess my favourite. I'll grab an éclair too, thanks, dine-in today." _Now _Aizawa's work was officially hell. Even so, he went about making the man's drink, only to be interrupted by the same question as yesterday. "You gonna ask for my name?"

He whipped out his marker. "Baby, right?"

"I lied," the blond said cheerily with a toothy grin, "my name is actually _your _phone number! Isn't that a funny coincidence?"

Aizawa had never heard a lamer pickup line in his life, yet he felt the edge of his mouth twitch a little. Even so, there was no way he was going to let this eyesore know he thought he was even remotely funny. "It isn't," he stated bluntly and wrote what was necessary on the order form before he moved to make the drink.

While he made the blond his coffee, he also prepared his own eldritch abomination of twenty expresso shots in a single cup – his 'lunch'. The other employee took Hizashi's cash, offered him a loyalty card and thanked him for his patronage when he declined one. The man was apparently an urban legend, known to never visit the same coffeeshop twice, yet there he was, now moving to the pickup counter. Maybe he was a masochist.

Shouta slid the blond his tray, complete with drink, éclair and receipt. "Order for phone number '110'."

"What a strange coincidence," said the blond as he took the tray. "Your phone number _just so happens _to be the same as the police's?"

"Call it and find out." He picked up his own 'drink' and sipped the black liquid without batting an eye.

His co-worker waved to let him know his break had begun, and he thankfully made his way to an empty couch by the window. It was cosy enough, while the stark sunlight stopped him getting any ideas about napping. He had to get Vitamin D somehow. He peacefully sipped his liquid death but was interrupted by the sound of someone sitting across from him.

"You on break?" asked Hizashi as he set his tray down.

"For fifteen minutes," he said simply, hoping the conversation would end there.

"Matcha strawberry latte," correctly guessed the blond as he looked over the green and pink drink the barista had made. A colourful eyesore for a colourful eyesore. Aizawa just grunted and Hizashi took a deep sip. "Not my favourite," he murmured, "but it's definitely something different. You're good."

"I'm the best." He was the best at _both _his jobs.

They sat in silence after that, and Aizawa was thankful for it. He finished his drink and rested his eyes while the other man swapped back and forth between eating the éclair and sipping the latte.

Soon, however, he sensed his break was coming to an end. He pulled his hair from his work cap and ponytail, intending to retie it so it'd last for the rest of the shift, but he was interrupted by the sound of smashing. His eyes flashed open.

Hizashi was _staring _at him with those great green eyes, his thick glasses serving to frame rather than obscure.

Upon eye contact, the blond glanced awkwardly at the floor where the remains of his mug had scattered, and his face grew red. "Ah shit," he cursed and immediately crouched to pick up the pieces, "my hand slipped. Sorry, I'll clean it."

Shouta sighed and fetched the dustpan before he knelt beside him. "It happens." Thankfully the man had almost finished the drink, so besides the china there was very little to clean up. "You hurt?"

"I'm fine," said Hizashi, a little too forcibly. "I just wasn't expecting you to be-…" He cut himself off.

"For me to be…?"

"So handsome with your hair down!" he claimed nervously. Aizawa glanced at his reflection and instantly retied his hair with the company policy ponytail. Whether his hair was up or his hair was down, all he saw was a tired man. Hizashi bit his lip, "I can pay for the mug."

"We have spares. I'll try not to be so handsome next time." Aizawa paused and casually added, "If there _is _a next time, urban legend."

"Who knows…"

Aizawa returned to his shift, and the blond left shortly after without another word. His Fire-Quirk co-worker looked beyond amused. "The man who never visits a store twice visited us _twice_. That's going on my CV."

The darkhaired barista just grunted and got to work, although something still bugged him about the man's expression when he'd taken his hair down…

For just a moment, Hizashi had looked _scared_.


	3. Deconstructed Vietnamese Iced-Coffee

Chapter Three

**Deconstructed Vietnamese Iced-Coffee**

Shit. The witty barista was Eraserhead, the very hero he'd vowed to destroy just that morning. Shit, shit, shit.

What if he'd recognised Present Mic? No, he'd changed his voice and although his moustache might've been a giveaway, there was no way the hero had had enough time to memorise his description. He'd only recognised Eraser when he'd taken his hair down because he couldn't get the image of the hero ascending from the pit outta his mind.

He jostled his legs at the first feeling of uncomfortableness. Dammit, why was he such a sucker for the rude, abrasive ones? No, he had to stay on goal. So what if he had to kill the barista? It's not like he would've ever gone there again. He'd only visited a second time because he'd been so riled up after the night-time disaster.

But man that barista _was _hot, with a dry wit, mellifluous delivery, and - oh man, he had to stop drooling. No, Eraserhead had made an enemy out of him! He'd ruined Present Mic's grand introduction and he would pay! The fact that the hero he wanted dead was also the witty barista was a blessing in disguise!

Hizashi pulled out a notebook and carefully penned down all he knew about the man. His hero name was Eraserhead and his real name – according to his nametag - was Aizawa. He could 'erase' the Quirk of anyone he looked at and wore barred goggles to hide his eyes. The scarf allowed for great manoeuvrability, a devastating combination with his fast speed and quick mind. He worked at the Extroverted Hermit, made good coffee, looked hot with his hair down, and since the store closed at around 6pm, he must've finished work around that time too. At night he patrolled the area around Musutafu's back alleys, and he was an underground hero who ostensibly avoided the spotlight.

"So, I just gotta find out where he lives, when he sleeps, what time he goes on patrol and what time he gets back home." He wrote down the points, leaving enough space for eventual answers, and rubbed his hands deviously as his plan slowly formed.

First he would learn the man's schedule from a distance, then once everything was routine he would strike. He'd have to temporarily give up his coffee-tradition, but once Eraser was dead he'd have no reason to go back anyway.

That night he pulled on a hoodie and secretly watched the coffeeshop from across the street. The last two people on shift – Aizawa and the Fire Quirk girl – left just after 6pm and went in opposite directions. Hizashi followed the underground hero at a distance, and thankfully there were a few people milling about the streets in search of food, so he didn't stand out all that much. He didn't even have to follow him for long.

Aizawa turned left into a tall building and Hizashi paused once he reached the front of it: a Capsule Hotel. Huh, was the hero there temporarily? Maybe he was new to the area and was still trying to find a place to live permanently, or maybe this was a distraction to keep him from being followed.

The villain entered a nearby office building and calmly found his way to an empty desk by a window that faced the hotel. There were a few workers around who gave him strange looks, but they were ultimately too busy to give him any attention, especially once he pulled out a laptop and pretended to work. While he waited, he looked up information about both the hotel and the office he was currently in. The office belonged to some big company and, according to the site, it was open 24/7. Still, if he was going to stake the hotel out long-term, he'd need to find a better solution than pretending to do office work.

His phone chimed once at midnight and several workers left their desks to head home. He glanced out the window, wondering whether the hero had given him the slip after all, when he saw a black shape exit the hotel's front doors. So he _was_ staying there!

Aizawa's hair was down and he was wearing the same costume he'd worn the night before. However, rather than follow him, Hizashi just wrote down the time on his notebook: 12:04am. So, there was a six-hour gap between him leaving the coffee job and him going on patrol. Mic's big debut had been at 3am, so he must've still been on patrol around then. When did this guy even sleep, or have dinner, or do anything other than work?

Hizashi thought_ he_ was perpetually busy between his own three jobs: odd DJing gigs, his bi-weekly radio show, and of course his villain work.

His talent was in building support-ware and coding malware for criminal use. It was a fun job, if competitive, but his products always had that lucrative edge. While 'Present Mic' was still unknown, he _was _known by another name. Hizashi Yamada was an underground genius, and many had taken to calling him '**The** **Trojan Bat**'.

Naturally, he _hated _it.

Hizashi had once worked in a compound with other support-ware techs, but the place had inevitably been raided by heroes. Rather than surrendering, the blond had led his fellow criminals safely from the building using a technique he'd perfected over many years. By making clicking sounds with his Quirk and adjusting the frequency of his homemade hearing-aids, he could use a rudimentary form of echolocation. With this, he'd pinpointed the whereabouts of the heroes and had determined which exits they hadn't guarded. With his help, they'd successfully escaped without losing a single techie, and they'd given him the name out of respect.

He'd tried to make them change it. He didn't mind the trojan part as malware was his sweetheart, but they never stopped calling him 'Bat'. Bats were blind! He wasn't blind! Well, his vision wasn't _great_, but he wasn't fucking blind! He was _deaf_! It made no sense to call him a bat! Still, they did it anyway and he was sick of it. Hizashi was no longer content with just building weapons and coding viruses and going by an uninspired title.

He was ready to enter the big leagues of villainy as Present Mic, and that meant killing Eraserhead!

He waited for Aizawa to return from patrol, nearly falling asleep many times at the borrowed desk, until it finally hit 5am. Hizashi nearly leapt from the seat when he saw Eraserhead returning through the front door of the hotel. Didn't he even try to hide his location? How hadn't this guy been killed already?

The blond sipped the disgusting excuse for 'coffee' he'd bought from a vending machine, but he could feel his eyes drooping against his will. He forced himself to remain alert until just before 6am, when Aizawa left the hotel with uniform and tied up hair. The blond wrote it down mid-yawn, pleased with himself for a successful stakeout.

So, he must've slept at some point between 6pm and midnight, but he would've also showered and eaten during this time, meaning he probably slept for only about five hours.

"Stupid hero," Hizashi mumbled to himself. "He managed to survive my debut on only five hours sleep? Let's see how he does on four."

-x-

Several days had passed since the incident with the Voice Villain. Thankfully the wound beneath his right eye had healed enough to no longer need the gauze pad, but even those with healing quirks had told him it would be a new scar.

Since that night, things had been surprisingly uneventful for Eraserhead. Even though nothing was broadcasted about the villain Crocodile Dundee's capture, word spread fast in criminal circles and the scum had kept more closely to the shadows. It would be a week at least before things returned to normal. There was no sign of Present Mic. He'd tried to research the criminal but had found nothing, and even a search on villains with Voice Quirks had offered zero leads.

He heard the bell jingle above the door, signalling a customer. It was still half an hour 'til closing, but they'd been cleaning up early as things had been quiet. Aizawa didn't know whether to be surprised or not when the blond eyesore wandered inside.

"Hello sir!" greeted his horned co-worker. "In case you're planning to dine-in, we'll be closing in half an hour."

He waved a hand at her, "Don't worry. I'll be out before closing this time." His vibrant green eyes danced to the counter and the rest of his body followed suit.

Aizawa folded his arms. "What can I get you?"

"Do you need to ask?"

He tilted his head, allowing his dark fringe to flop in front of his left eye. "Have we met before? I don't recognise you."

The blond gasped, "You wound me, Aizawa."

"Oh, I remember. Your name's either 'Baby' or '110'," he pointed out dryly.

"Exactly! What would you recommend for me today?"

"Besides the door?" he retorted with a thoughtful expression.

Hizashi's green orbs snaked to the scar. "The figurative one or the literal one?"

Shouta's lip twitched a little, and he purposefully glanced away to grab a loyalty card from the rack. "If you're coming this frequently, I'm giving you a loyalty card. Fifth visit gives you a free cookie, while the tenth is a free medium drink."

The blond waved it away, "I'd take it as a personal afront if you gave me one. I don't typically visit a place twice, let alone ten times."

"Well, three sounds like a new record. I don't imagine you're here for the customer service."

"Maybe I am," he said with one of his trademark winks. "Give me a medium of whatever drink you'd recommend. Maybe something cold today. Dine in. I'll be out before closing."

"Name?" he asked with a grunt, despite how empty the place was.

Hizashi's face lit up with a twisted smile. "Why would you need to know that? I'm the only customer here."

If he'd been doing his hero work, he might've punched the guy. Even though he resisted, he still had half a mind to just fill a cup with water and call it his 'recommended' drink. That would show the idiot.

Aizawa turned away and set himself to brewing. The blond moved to the pickup area and this time he talked as the barista worked. "How long you been here? You, not the store."

Always with the personal questions. Still, at least he'd waited three visits before he'd tried. "Four years," Aizawa answered as he pulled out some ice. "Been a barista for ten though."

"You move a lot?"

"No," he answered more firmly, letting the man know he was bordering on too personal.

Hizashi must've understood, for the next question he asked was, "And am I the handsomest customer you've ever had?" His tone was comical. He must've sensed the overstepped boundary and asked a question Aizawa could easily snipe him with as an apology.

What should he say? It literally hurt to look at him. His moustache made him look like a Beauty and the Beast live action reject. He had more chance of being the _worst_ customer he'd ever served.

Instead, he calmly said, "You have nice eyes."

The blond was successfully stricken silent. Aizawa waited for him to say something back, expecting him to panic and quickly compliment something about him as well, to tell him how handsome he was, but Hizashi said nothing.

He placed the coffee on the tray, and the eyesore studied it with an uncharacteristic lack of enthusiasm. "What is it?"

"Deconstructed Vietnamese iced-coffee," Aizawa said as he pushed the tray closer to him. "With a Japanese twist. I wouldn't call myself a hipster, but I've served my fair share of them." The blond glanced at the chalkboard above, clearly noting that this wasn't something on the menu, but he gave his cash anyway and the barista priced it the same as a normal coffee.

"Thanks." The man took the small tray which carried a glass of ice, a portable coffee-dripper and a cup of condensed milk atop. Aizawa didn't watch him as he assembled it – he was the coffee 'urban legend' so he could most certainly manage. Besides, his lack of a reaction earlier still bugged him, but he didn't waste his time thinking about it as he went about cleaning the counter.

-o-

Hizashi allowed the coffee to finish dripping into the cup before he poured it over the ice and added the entire serving of condensed milk. The stupid hero had purposefully thrown him off with a compliment! Had he seen through his civilian clothes? No, that was impossible.

His co-worker must've signalled him while Hizashi couldn't see them, had probably silently reminded the darkhaired man that he was supposed to _not _insult the paying customers.

He sipped the drink.

It was too bitter. The man hadn't given him enough condensed milk. Still, the texture was smooth and _good_. God, was it good.

No, he had to focus, what had he learnt! Eraser had worked at this café for several years, but had mentioned being a barista for longer. This wasn't the only place he'd worked at. There was still no way of knowing where his actual home was or had been, but he must've temporarily moved into the Capsule Hotel because it was close to work. Still, every time he'd followed the man home from work that week, he'd gone straight to the hotel. He didn't stop for food, or to talk to anyone, or do anything normal. His schedule was precise and was repeated every day.

That would be to Present Mic's benefit.

-x-

One Day Later

It was time for Present Mic to put his plan into action. The sky was overcast, but the rain came later than he'd expected, although he'd given himself plenty of time. After letting himself get mildly drenched, he hurried inside the Capsule Hotel lobby and smiled apologetically at the doorman. '_Sorry_,' he signed with his hands, '_can I wait here to dry?'_

The man stared blankly. Good, he had no clue. Hizashi made more blatant gestures which resembled charades more than signing, and whether he knew sign language or not, the doorman eventually understood and was eager to please as he gestured to a place for him to sit. Perfect.

_'Can I charge my phone too?' _he added with a sideways glance at the USB charging point beside the seat. _'I'm planning to jack into your hotel's shoddy security system so I can kill a guy for my own villainous gain.' _Hizashi signed it so fast even someone familiar with sign language would've struggled to understand, and he finished the confession with an innocent smile.

Completely oblivious, the man happily nodded again and Hizashi set himself down to work. While this would've been easier on a laptop, the burner phone was less conspicuous. The hotel had a staff wi-fi and although it was password protected, he had executable programs for such problems. After three minutes, he was connected and the real fun began.

Once on the private wi-fi, building a backdoor into the staff computers was a cinch. Just like that, he had access to their entire system. His talent was wasted on hotels. He'd prepared himself for a worst-case scenario, that Aizawa had used a fake name, but when he searched he was successful:

_Shouta Aizawa._

_Found you._ The guy even had the kanji for 'Erase' in his name! Probably a family Quirk then. Hizashi took several screenshots of the file for future study, but what really surprised him was the hero's check-in date. No way! Eraserhead had stayed at the Capsule Hotel for over _ten years_! He hadn't moved in because it was close to work, he'd worked at the coffeeshop because it was close to the hotel!

He brushed off his shock, deciding now wasn't the time for distractions, and set to work on accessing Aizawa's personal 'room'. The place didn't even use physical keys! Everything was unlocked using QR codes and scanners! His talents were **wasted **on hotels!

The black and white square that would unlock his plan appeared on the screen, along with Eraserhead's pod number, and he instantly screenshotted it. Just like that, the easy part was done. He exited the system before any anti-viruses could pick him up and wandered back to the doorman's side. _'Bathroom?' _he quickly signed, feigning discomfit.

The doorman looked unsure about what the man was asking, and Hizashi had to mouth out the word a few times. He _could _have verbally told the man, but he had a persona to keep up, and he'd found people were far less suspicious of him if they thought he couldn't hear. The man soon understood, held up four fingers and even called the lift for him. Service with a smile!

Hizashi signed his thanks and hurried inside, making a show of pressing the button for the fourth floor. However, as soon as the doors closed, he pressed the button for the sixth. When it stopped at reception, he just pretended to be busy with his phone, and the doors soon closed and took him where he needed to go.

As he exited the elevator, he was greeted with signs declaring the floor was for 'Males Only', and he smiled and headed inside. The ground looked like a giant ruler, clearly indicating the different pod numbers, and it didn't take him long at all to go up a small ladder to Eraserhead's 'room'.

The curtain was drawn and the pod was sealed, but a quick scan of his screenshotted QR code let him inside without trouble. There really wasn't much to see in the space. The pod was long but not very wide, tall enough to sit in but not to stand, especially for a tall guy like Aizawa. At the very top was a fire sprinkler, in case of an emergency.

Well, Aizawa wasn't _completely_ stupid as it seemed he kept none of his personal belongings in the pod, besides a yellow sleeping bag. He must've stored his clothes and valuables in a locker where it would be 'safer'.

His plan was momentarily paused. The small space smelt heavily of Aizawa, like coffee and cheap shampoo, but instead of the annoying hero, he thought of the tired barista who'd told him he had nice eyes.

He bit his lip and forced the image from his mind. Hizashi had work to do. The blond inspected the USB charging point and smiled wickedly as he plugged his laptop into the port. The backdoor malware had taken years to perfect, but this was the first time he'd used it for himself. While it couldn't spread between devices, he'd found the most successful point of infection was through a charging port.

Any device plugged in would be at his mercy. Eraserhead was going to be sorry he'd ever survived Present Mic's clutches.


	4. Caramel Frappuccino

Chapter Four

**Caramel Frappuccino**

Everything had been normal. Aizawa finished working at the Extroverted Hermit at closing and followed his usual route to the Capsule Hotel. He expected a busy night ahead, for about a week had passed since the crocodile villain had been arrested. Criminals would be back to their usual antics. At this stage, he almost wanted to find Present Mic to _thank him_: with his help, they'd caught a dangerous villain they'd been tracking for months.

He entered the hotel and the doorman greeted him politely. After ten years of living in the hotel, he'd become a legend among the staff, although he did his best to avoid talking with them. Thankfully most stayed on the fourth floor, where the reception desk was, as Aizawa didn't have time for chitchat, especially after work when he was dying to take a shower, eat his dinner, and get in his five hours of sleep.

He collected his overnight bag from his locker and found an empty shower cubicle in the male washroom. The water was always a few degrees below just-right, but it was refreshing nevertheless. Shouta Aizawa exhaled as the water washed away the twelve-hour shift. It ran through his hair, down his finely muscled body, across numerous scars no Quirk could ever heal, and finally disappeared into the drain below. He'd once loved long showers, as well as baths, but that indulgence was now a distant memory. Aizawa was out after three short minutes.

His pyjamas were simple, consisting of pink sweatpants and a tatty long-sleeved shirt for autumn, although the pod where he slept was more frequently too hot than too cold.

He didn't have time to dry his hair, so he just let it hang down and dry naturally while he made his way to his favourite restaurant: a lowly ramen dispenser near the elevator of his floor. He put his money in the machine, picked out a cup – shoyu flavour tonight – and used the hot water tank to fill it.

His stomach rumbled while he waited for it to absorb the water, and he busied himself by pulling apart the wooden chopsticks he'd taken from the cutlery counter. Right on the seam – today was going to be a busy night. There were a few tables and chairs about, but they were so rarely used he never had trouble picking a private spot to sit and eat his dinner while he checked over the latest news on his phone.

He'd received several messages from Nemuri – better known as the R-Rated Hero: Midnight – and he took his time to read through them. She was checking up to make sure he was okay after his recent shift and if he'd had anymore run ins with the eyesore at work. He formulated his response while he stirred his ramen, telling her concisely that he _was_ okay and that the man _had_ come by the previous day, but had acted strangely after he'd complimented him.

Not two seconds later, his phone began to ring. Aizawa sighed and answered it.

"You actually _complimented _someone?" she yelled into her device.

"He had nice eyes. It's not a big deal."

"Shouta, I've known you since we were kids, and I think the only time you've ever complimented me was that one time I put a building of villains to sleep and you told me I had a 'good Quirk'."

"I tell you you're not bad all the time," he half-heartedly defended as he chowed down on his noodles.

"Shouta, the phrase 'Not Bad' is not exactly an insult, but it's _not _a compliment! So, what do you know about this guy?"

"Nothing," he said between mouthfuls of heaven. "He's annoying." The edges of his mouth twitched as he remembered the blond's dumb pickup lines. Seriously, did those ever work on anyone?

Nemuri sighed heavily and he could hear her shaking her head against the microphone. "You sure you're gonna be okay? It's okay to ask for a break if you need one. I know a few heroes who could take your patrol."

"They told you about Present Mic?"

She hesitated. "I found out today. It was very hush-hush, apparently at your request."

"His Quirk was dangerous," he murmured quietly. There was no one else around, but it never hurt to be careful. "He brought down a building with a single scream. That's powerful, even for a Voice Quirk."

"We're competent too, you know," she said in a forced light-hearted tone. "Take care of yourself more. When was the last time you talked to someone outside of work who wasn't me?" He was silent as he tried to think of an answer, but he must've taken too long. "Just don't wear yourself too thin. Being a hero is a job, and it's okay to get paid for doing it instead of running yourself into the ground."

"I've had this schedule for years," he said as he finished the ramen and tossed away the packaging. "Everything's going to be okay."

"I'll talk to you soon. Just _please _take care of yourself."

"I'll try," he lied as he hung up.

Aizawa finished checking the news and went to his pod for some well-deserved sleep. It was just the way he'd left it, although something unsettled him as he sealed the door. He smelled cologne – nice, but faded and unfamiliar. If it hadn't been nearing nineteen hours since he'd last slept, he might've been more suspicious, but Aizawa just chalked it up to someone in a neighbouring pod and checked his alarm. Five hours of sleep and it was back to the grindstone.

With no reason to stay awake, he plugged his phone into the USB charger and let sleep take him.

-x-

Hizashi Yamada's laptop screen came to life, illuminating his devilish grin. The last question he'd needed now had an answer: Eraserhead went to sleep at precisely 7pm. Everything was falling perfectly into place.

"Now let's see what you've got," he whispered as his fingers flew across the keyboard. Just like that, the contents of the Erasure Hero's phone belonged to him: alarms, calendars, contacts, photos, messages. With this, he could even access the camera and past phone calls! By the looks of it, Aizawa cleared out his history and messages very frequently, but backing them up on his laptop would be simple enough. "Where to begin… Oh, looks like you had a call with 'Nemuri'! Let's have a listen!"

He was in his own home, a large apartment that even had its own recording booth for when he did his radio shows. It had cost a bunch to have it built, but it'd been a long time since money had been a concern - it was a lie to say crime never paid!

Hizashi hit play and closed his eyes while he listened to the conversation over multiple speakers. Although the call didn't give away the identity of the woman 'Nemuri', it was safe to guess she was a fellow hero based on her knowledge of recent events. It was especially nice to find out how rarely the barista gave out compliments, but whatever joy he might've felt disappeared with one line:

_"He's annoying."_

The blond made a dissatisfied click with his mouth, his lips turned down in a sneer. Even then, it wasn't anything compared to what the hero eventually said.

His Voice Quirk was _dangerous_.

Hizashi's face grew blank. He wasn't wrong – it was difficult to control and constant exposure to it had rendered him practically deaf – but it still rubbed him the wrong way when that voice said it.

This 'Nemuri' sounded like a genuine friend who cared about Shouta Aizawa's wellbeing. How touching. Present Mic had to do something about that. She'd get in his way, no doubt, but there was an easy solution.

A few clicks on his laptop and it was done: all messages to and from her phone were blocked. Aizawa's phone would still display her normally and would claim their messages went through, but the only one who'd be receiving any would be the Voice Villain himself.

He'd built a virtual wall between the two heroes and he stood at its centre.

The next step he'd had planned for a while now. Hizashi accessed Eraserhead's alarms to find there was only one, set for midnight exactly. Simply changing the alarm would be too simple and too obvious, but he had a better solution in mind. A few more clicks on the keyboard and the time on the phone leapt an hour ahead.

The door to his sound booth opened as his housecat wandered inside, meowing and looking for some attention. Unable to say no, he picked her up and placed her in his lap as he set up the last of his plan.

She was a young cat, only two, but she'd lost an ear and most of her tail to a vicious dog. Her face was badly scarred too, and she'd only been days away from euthanasia when he'd spontaneously decided to adopt her from the shelter. No one had wanted her, except for him. Maybe he could relate.

"Get it, Boots? He relies on his phone to tell him the time. The only place I saw a clock in that hotel was in the reception room on the fourth floor, where he doesn't need to go, so I've set his phone to repeatedly change time zones. At 8pm ever day, it'll jump ahead to 9pm, while at 2am it'll return to the correct time. He'll be so tired he won't even be able to question it~!" He laughed manically, accidentally shaking the equipment in the room with his voice, but his cat was too used to it to be deterred. He swapped to the phone's camera. It was pitch black, but he could pick up the quiet sound of steady breathing. "Sleep while you can, Hero, because I'm going to break you one hour at a time."

-x-

Aizawa woke as soon as his phone buzzed beside him, although he had to blink a few times before he could properly sit up and check it. Yep, midnight. He turned off the alarm and yawned as he fished through his bag for eyedrops and his hero costume.

The day must've been busier than he'd thought, for his body felt more sluggish than usual, but he just chalked it up to a bad night's sleep. Aizawa changed into his hero outfit, a task that'd once been challenging in the cramped space but was now second nature to him.

He pulled his phone from the charger and slipped it into his utility belt as he made his way down to the ground floor. There were a few people still milling about, but they paid no attention to the man who looked like he might've been wearing pyjamas. He bought himself a cheap coffee from a vending machine and set to work.

It was a long night, predominantly spent busting up a few back-alley drug deals and stopping a man with a ground Quirk from mugging a woman who'd been walking home. When he felt his five-hour patrol was nearing its end, he checked the time on his phone, only to discover he still had another long hour to go.

His patrol through the streets continued, but his mind kept drawing back to the disheartened look on Hizashi's face when he'd complimented him. Why _had _he complimented him? Well, he _did _have nice eyes. Even so, the man hadn't said anything about the drink. He must've overstepped a boundary.

Aizawa was already thinking about what coffee he'd make for him next time. Would there even be a next time?

"Caramel Frappuccino," he murmured to the empty night. "I'll make him a Caramel Frappuccino."


	5. Mochaccino

Chapter Five

**Mochaccino**

_Life_ was **_hell_**_._

About a week had passed since Hizashi had last visited the shop, and Aizawa felt like shit. According to both his customers and his co-workers, he looked like it too.

"You sleeping okay, bud?" asked his junior staff member. "Your suitcases are now duffle bags."

"I'm okay," he dismissed. "I've just-" His eyes fell on the door before the bell even jingled.

Hizashi entered as if nothing was wrong, although this time he carried a laptop under his arm. The darkhaired man checked the clock on the wall, curiously pleased to see he would be on lunchbreak soon.

"Business is booming," said the blond as he reached the register. It was true, they'd been especially busy as a special guest would be appearing at one of the nearby clubs later. For once, the eyesore didn't even stand out since most customers were currently dressed in rainbow-vomit clothes.

"DJ Yamada is playing," Aizawa said as if it were common knowledge.

Hizashi looked surprised. "You know about DJ Yamada?"

The darkhaired man tilted his head, "He does the _Hands Up_ radio show on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The girls play it whenever its on." Of course they only put it on because he'd always put it on, but he didn't go into detail.

"_You _listen to his show?" Hizashi's mouth was agape.

"Sometimes." Every time. Aizawa grunted and changed the topic, "You okay?"

The blond leaned against the counter and raised a thin eyebrow at him. "Why wouldn't I be? You're the one who looks like a Walking Dead extra." He smiled thinly. "Not that I mind. You still look a million bucks to me."

"Anything special today, or just the usual?"

"Whatever you recommend, large, dine-in, and I'll have a donut too." Hizashi checked his watch, "You going on lunchbreak soon?"

"A few minutes. What name should I put on the order?"

Rather than say anything, the man just made a gesture with his right hand - sign language? Hizashi didn't specify what it meant, just looked a little unsure as he moved over to the pickup area. Something was on his mind today.

Aizawa nodded, scribbled on the order form, and set about making the drink he'd planned all week. Hizashi said nothing as he waited, but this time it was the darkhaired man who asked him, "How long you been here? You, not the store."

"Since I was a kid," Hizashi answered without pause and with a ghost of a smile. "Didn't grow up in the best part of town, but I've done pretty well for myself. You like DJ Yamada?"

The man must've been a bigger fan than he let on. "His persona is a bit over the top, but his voice is nice and the music isn't bad. You should come by during his times and listen here."

"Maybe…" He sounded distant, like he wasn't exactly there, and Aizawa felt no need to push anything.

-o-

Aizawa still looked too good. Sure his eyes were a bit redder, his face a bit darker, but he still functioned just fine. Hizashi thought he'd be a wreck by now, but he was stronger than he looked. He'd set it so the clock of his phone would go forward** two** hours tonight as opposed to just one. Most humans could live on four hours of sleep, so it was time to see if Eraser could manage with three.

"Here," the barista said and offered him a tray with both drink and donut on. "I'm taking my break now."

Hizashi took the tray and looked him over, "Not gonna drink your mutant expresso?"

"Needed one earlier," he said as he took the blond's money and dropped it in the register without even counting it. Maybe he _wasn't _functioning just fine. "Need to rest my eyes."

He was surprised when Aizawa followed him to the empty booth and slipped in across from him. If he was annoying, why was he forcing proximity? Hizashi glanced at the order form. A Caramel Frappuccino today, so nothing out of the ordinary, but he was surprised to find the man hadn't left the order form blank as expected: he'd drawn a sun.

He'd signed the word for sunshine as a joke on his name, but he'd never expected the barista to understand that! There was no way he'd known, especially when Hizashi had only mentioned his name once on his first visit. There was no way Aizawa remembered it! This was just a lucky guess and nothing more.

He sipped the Caramel Frappuccino. At least his coffee skills were still top-notch. Hizashi watched as Shouta Aizawa buried his head in his arms and 'rested his eyes'.

Things were only going to get worse for the barista. Hizashi opened his laptop to find the Nemuri woman had been trying to send messages to her friend only minutes ago. Usually he wouldn't have faked being Eraser with the man in question sitting so close, but he was napping, and even if he were awake it would be impossible to see the screen from where he sat.

_'SHOUTA,'_ Nemuri's message began. _'You still kicking?'_

Crap, how should he respond?

He glanced over the previous messages Shouta had sent this woman and tried to formulate a style, when he stopped himself. Hizashi glanced at the sleeping man, checked the time stamps on the previous messages, and closed the program for now. Right, it was during Aizawa's work hours. He'd never message her during work hours! Man, he'd nearly fallen into a trap.

He'd message her tonight, and if she called then he would use his Quirk to mimic Eraserhead's voice. Hizashi had a good idea about how the man spoke, so he was confident all would go well.

Instead he opened his playlist and got to work on finalising everything for his gig. He never would've guessed a man like Aizawa liked his radio show…

Hizashi finished his drink and his donut, but stayed with the sleeping barista until one of the girls came over to wake him for the rest of his shift.

-x-

Aizawa checked his phone as he ate his dinner – miso ramen tonight – but found no new messages from Nemuri. He sent her a quick update, mentioning that the blond had been into work again but hadn't seemed his normal self. He waited for her to call, as she typically did at the first hint of gossip, but his phone remained silent.

Odd, she must've been busy with something undercover. He'd try again in a few days. Aizawa finished flipping through the news and ate the last of his noodles before he finally went to his pod to sleep.

He woke at midnight to his phone buzzing, and he felt _bad_. His head swam as he sat up. It felt like his brain had been replaced with cotton, but a quick glance at his phone screen confirmed it was midnight. He really did need a break…

Even so, he forced his body to sluggishly pull on his outfit and he decided to buy a coffee from one of the vending machines before he got stuck into hero work.

-x-

Hizashi came into the coffeeshop three days later. Aizawa was at the register but didn't even look up when the blond approached the counter.

The man looked dead.

His sharp eyes were tinted red and even when he looked at him his vision didn't focus. It was as if Eraserhead was looking straight through him. Perfect, he'd be ready for him tonight!

"_Hey Sleeping Beauty_," Hizashi said in English, further confusing the dead-eyed barista. "How've you been?"

"Hm?" His eyes managed to focus on the blond's face, and there was a glint of recognition across his features. "Not bad," he murmured quietly and instantly went about making the blond a drink without asking any questions.

Yeah, he was out of it. Tonight Hizashi would set up a trap and would finally get the Erasure Hero to pay for ruining his big debut! No matter what happened, there would be no third chance. Everything was planned.

"You on lunchbreak soon?" he asked, but the darkhaired man didn't seem to hear him. Man, and _he _was supposed to be the deaf one.

Hizashi noticed the worried glances of the female co-workers, and one of them went up to the blond. "Hey, do you know Aizawa outside of work?"

He was surprised by the unexpected question. "Why'd you think that?"

"When you talk you guys sound like friends," she justified. Right, she was the one with the Fire-Quirk. "And you've been frequenting this place. All my other barista friends keep telling me I'm lying about you."

"What're you getting at?"

She exhaled so heavily a bit of smoke puffed out. "Can you talk to him, please? We're trying to convince him to take a day off, but the boss won't make him unless Aizawa requests it personally. He won't listen to a co-worker, but he might listen to a friend."

A day off? There would be no need, for the man would be dead come daylight tomorrow.

"I'll try," he murmured, "but no promises."

"_Baby_," Aizawa called in English, catching the blond off-guard. "_Is there an order for 'Baby'?_"

Hizashi moved to the counter, but he was stunned when he noticed Shouta Aizawa was _smiling_. It was a horrible smile that showed all his teeth, and someone less versed in body language might've interpreted it as a villainous grin, yet the blond could see the good intention behind it. His eye twitched and he tried not to notice the odd feeling in his chest. "_You know English_?" he asked – in English.

_"A bit. Had to look up 'Baby'."_

Shit, the moron had learnt how to say 'Baby' in English for a bad joke. Hizashi would've done the same thing.

The man approached the counter and looked at the tray. Aizawa had served him a Mochaccino with whipped cream, but what really surprised him was the small plate to the side. "I didn't order a cookie," he pointed out dryly.

Even so, Aizawa pushed the tray closer to him and gestured at the rack of unclaimed loyalty cards that Hizashi had continuously rebuffed. "Fifth order, free cookie. Five more and it'll be a drink."

-x-

Aizawa felt like death when his alarm woke him that night. It felt like his world was crumbling around him. His sense of time was skewed, his joints felt like stone, his eyelids could barely stay open and his head was so disorientated he momentarily forgot where he was. Right, he had to patrol the streets.

He glanced at his phone, only to be further disheartened. Nemuri hadn't messaged him in days. Although that wasn't too strange, he thought she'd at least message him to find out about his latest run in with the blond eyesore. Right, Hizashi had been in earlier that day around lunch. He'd honestly wanted to talk more with him, but he hadn't been able to stay awake during the break and when he'd woken Hizashi had already left.

He'd _wanted _to talk with the eyesore.

"I'm going mad," he whispered to himself. Warning alarms were sounding in his head.

He remembered what Nemuri had told him about getting someone else to do his patrol, and the swirling in his stomach convinced him that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. He swallowed his pride and called her. Much to his surprise, however, the phone rang out. _That _was a bad sign. In all the years he'd known her, she'd never missed a call.

He tried again, concern prickling, but to his relief the call went through.

"Aizawa!" called the woman's voice from the other end of the phone. "You still kicking?"

It was her voice alright but, even in his exhausted state, something felt … off. "I'm fine," he lied and put his head back down so he could stare up at the emergency sprinkler. "Can someone take my patrol tonight?"

There was a paused silence on the other end of the phone, and then a sigh. "I'm sorry, but I'm super busy and there's no one else available. I can have someone do it tomorrow though. Sorry, I can't talk for much longer."

"Oh," his voice came out, more breath than sound. "Okay." He hung up and forced himself to get changed into his hero attire.

_Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell._

-o-

The phone went silent as the Erasure Hero hung up on his end, and Hizashi sighed heavily as his voice returned to normal. He was thankful he'd heard the previous call between Aizawa and Nemuri, or else he wouldn't've been able to mimic her voice. Still, everything was going to plan.

He watched the GPS on Aizawa's phone move as the hero started his reluctant patrol. Thanks to one more time zone edit, the hero only had two hours of sleep under his belt that night, but he was certainly far too disorientated to notice any difference with the amount of people still about. The places he patrolled, according to the GPS Hizashi had mapped out each night, were typically uncrowded anyway.

Hizashi's cat purred as he ran his fingers through her fur. "Tonight's the night," he told her quietly. "Tonight we _break _that idiot."

He was already in his full attire, complete with spiked leather jacket, leather pants, headphones and orange, triangular glasses. His hair was gelled up tall. He looked vastly different to his civilian disguise, but that was the reason he dressed so ridiculously colourful when he was out and about. No one would think the colourfully dressed yet mutedly spoken Hizashi was actually the mutedly dressed yet colourfully spoken Voice Villain!

"Sorry Boots," he said as he carefully put her on the couch, "I've got a date with Eraserhead."


	6. Ginseng Coffee

Chapter Six

**Ginseng Coffee**

Having mapped his movements for a week now using the phone's GPS, Hizashi had no problem picking out a time and place for their final confrontation. He'd found a location in a quiet area that had once been an office building, not dissimilar to the one across from the Capsule Hotel, but long since abandoned. They'd have no one to interrupt them. Inside, he'd chosen two small rooms at the very centre and blown out parts of the dividing brick wall, although he'd left the middle section standing. There wouldn't be anything for the hero to swing on like last time, although the idea was the same: a fight to the death between a hero and a villain.

With Aizawa's phone under his control, getting his attention was easy. Just one message from the right number and he'd come running.

_'Villain spotted at attached location'_, he typed out, copying the style of previous texts from Eraserhead's hero company. _'Proceed with caution.'_

Soon enough, he'd have his prey.

Hizashi leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, making low clicking noises with his mouth. He felt the vibrations of his voice bounce off the walls, echo through the building, until eventually the sound shifted. He grinned maliciously but didn't stop the sound as he carefully pinpointed the movements of the hero. That was Eraserhead, alright.

The hero might've noticed the slight vibrations but would have no way of knowing what they meant or where they originated. Even so, Eraserhead was coming straight for him, and Present Mic could hardly contain his excitement.

In a place like this, there was nowhere for Aizawa to hide. His clicks ended when the hero reached the centre of the maze.

Eraserhead entered the small room with his goggles already in place but - judging by his hair - his Quirk wasn't active. "No pit-trap this time?" he asked in his typical monotone, although his words dragged more than usual. Wow, he was a _wreck_.

Present Mic beamed. "No pit, but I never said there wasn't a trap." He waved a device in his hands. "I've rigged this place to blow if I press this little button. You wandered through here yourself, so you must've noticed: this room is the centre, while this building acts as a labyrinth. When it's pressed, the building will-"

The capture weapon launched at him just as the hero's hair stood up. Present Mic threw his body to the side and ducked behind the partial wall in the centre of the room. As soon as he was out of sight, he launched a blast from his quirk. "**_LISTEN!_**_"_

A portion of the wall flew at the hero, bricks tangling with his capture weapon as he tried to stop them, but one got through his defence and hit the hero in the gut. He coughed and was pushed back a little, but remained standing.

Present Mic stepped out from behind the partial wall, face contorted in a sneer. "As I was saying before I was so **_rudely _**interrupted," the walls shook a little and he continued. "When I press this button, you'll have one minute to escape. You could make that on your own, but not while you're carrying someone~"

Aizawa wiped some spit from his lip and freed his capture weapon from the debris. "Why would I be carrying someone?"

"So slow!" He laughed and licked his lips. "Either one of us dies, or we both die here, Eraserhead. This building is a lot taller than the last, and I doubt even you could survive it falling on top of you! A true hero wouldn't kill a villain, so-"

His hair flared again. "Do you always talk this much?"

Rather than just use his capture weapon this time, the hero leapt to the side before Hizashi could slip behind the wall. Damn, he was still in sight!

Just when he thought he'd be in trouble, the hero slipped and would've collapsed had he not so quickly forced himself against the wall. His hair flopped down, and Hizashi felt excitement bubble inside him. With the lack of sleep, the hero's body was starting to cave!

"Feeling **_TIRED?_**_" _he shouted at the hero, pinning him up against the wall with his voice. Eraserhead clenched his teeth and covered his ears from the sound. Present Mic approached. "Maybe you should **_SLEEP!_**_"_ The hero was shoved against the wall again, harder than before.

"Stop!" called the hero, his hair flaring again, but it only lasted a few seconds. The man could barely keep his eyes open.

"**_YOU'RE _****_DEAD_****_!"_**

The capture weapon launched at him. He was too close to avoid it. His finger fell on the button and a loud BEEP signified its successful activation.

60 SECONDS.

Shit, he'd wanted to-

The capture weapon grabbed him, but almost instantly released him as it flung him back. A loud roar filled his headphones, and his eyes widened in shock as part of the ceiling caved where he'd stood only moments ago.

Hizashi had nearly been crushed by the work of his own voice.

His eyes turned to Aizawa and his stomach dropped. Blood ran down the man's face, starting from above his hairline.

50 SECONDS.

Shit, the STUPID HERO HAD SAVED HIM! HE COULD'VE MOVED! HE COULD'VE JUST LET HIM GET CRUSHED, BUT NO! HE HAD_ SAVED_ A _VILLAIN_ AND GOT INJURED DOING IT!

45 SECONDS.

SHIT.

Hizashi rushed forward and hauled the man over his shoulder. He was tall, but far lighter than he looked. Fuck, why hadn't he added a stop button? WHY HADN'T HE ADDED A FUCKING STOP BUTTON?

40 SECONDS.

There was no way he could escape, even via the quickest route he'd memorised. They were both doomed. He and Shouta Aizawa, the man who'd been essentially dying yet had still remembered it'd been Hizashi's fifth visit, the man who'd learnt how to say 'Baby' in English for him, who'd told him he had nice eyes-

Present Mic shoved his headphones over the unconscious man's ears and turned off his hearing-aids as he faced the nearest wall and inhaled.

He set his Directional Speaker to full volume and covered his ears as he screamed, _"__**FUUUUCK**__**!**_"

Despite the volume, his voice sounded distant. He reeled at the vibrations, and watched as the walls began to violently, yet quietly, collapse in front of him. With Aizawa still unconscious on his shoulder, he bolted through the new straightforward exit, even as his voice continued to carve the way ahead.

Hizashi could barely hear anything with his hearing-aids off, but he could feel the walls crashing behind him. Dust swirled, but he couldn't even remember how much time he had left to escape.

His voice tunnelled through the final wall and barely stopped short of the next building over. Yeah, Aizawa was right: his Quirk was dangerous.

Cool wind whipped at his face. He vaguely noticed his orange specs were gone, but before he thought too much about that he was blinded by four muted explosions. The tremor of the building's collapse threw him to the ground. His first instinct was to shield the unconscious hero with his body as several small pieces of rock bounce against his back. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited to be crushed, but…

Nothing happened.

He shakily opened his eyes again. The first thing he saw was Eraserhead's face. His goggles had slipped down to around his neck, but his eyes were closed. Blood stained half his face, although Hizashi couldn't see a wound besides the scar he'd given him during their previous fight. His chest was rising and falling.

Shouta Aizawa was alive.

Mic turned to the building and his chest squeezed. It was in pieces, thanks to his carefully placed explosions, and they'd only escaped death by inches. Hizashi shakily switched his hearing-aids back on and pulled himself to his feet. If that didn't draw attention, nothing would.

His second chance to debut had been another failure, and he didn't know how he was supposed to feel. His glasses were gone, his plan was ruined, and his prey was still breathing.

"I guess we're both idiots," he said to the unconscious man as he took back his headphones. "You saved a villain, and I saved a hero. But you know what I've learnt from this, Eraserhead?" Hizashi pulled the barista onto his back. There was a hospital not too far from there. "I don't want to kill you when you're at your most pathetic - I want to kill you when you're at your best."

-x-

Aizawa awoke in hospital three days later to find Nemuri sitting beside his bed. There was an IV drip in his arm and although he still felt like shit, even he had to admit he felt better than he had for a long time. "Nemuri?"

She instantly leapt to her feet. "SHOUTA! YOU'RE ALIVE!"

He cringed at her voice. His ears were ringing. "Why am I here?" he grumbled and glanced around the sparse room, noting a few cards and flowers on the bedside table.

"You had a run in with that Present Mic villain again. Someone found you and brought you in. No broken bones, but you'd been hit on the head by something nasty, and you were _far _beyond the point of complete exhaustion." She sighed. "Seriously, why didn't you call me? You sounded fine when we last talked."

He tried to remember the fight, but all he could recall were bricks and blond hair and pain. Still, while he struggled to remember the fight, he vividly remembered a phone call - he'd asked Nemuri for a break and she'd turned him down. Wait…

On the phone, Nemuri had called him Aizawa. She _never _called him Aizawa.

"I need a new phone," he said after careful thought. "Something's wrong with mine. A watch too, non-digital." He pulled himself into a seated position and felt at his head. It ached a little, a memory of pain, but Recovery Girl must've healed it up. "Who're they from?" he asked as he nodded at the gifts.

"Secret admirers." She picked up the cards and offered them to him. There was one from her, one from his co-workers, one from his boss at the coffee-shop, one from his hero-boss and one from…

It was a _very _colourful card, and when he opened it his eyes were further assaulted by rainbow-vomit. '_I lied about my name – it's actually __**my **__phone number.' _Beneath the comment was a string of numbers that could've only belonged to the blond eyesore. '_Call me when you're back at work. There's no point going in if my favourite barista isn't there. BTW: thanks for the cookie.'_

"That man," he said with a hint of fondness. "He's incorrigible…"

"Oh, my Shouta has a crush!" She cooed and jiggled her body from side to side. "What did that blow to the head do to you? I never took you for a hot-blooded man until now! You kissed him yet? Confessed your feelings? Hired out a room and spent an entire night making love until your voices are raw~? Oh, you're getting me excited!"

Aizawa rolled his eyes. "What's happened to my patrol?"

"Don't change the subject!" She slammed her hands on the bed, steam practically puffing from her nose. "Tell me about him!"

He glanced back at the card and vaguely ran his fingers over the embossed surface. "Just a customer."

"'Just a customer' who found out you were in hospital, made a card for you and even brought you some flowers. Go on a date with him or I will!"

His face fell and he put the card back on the table. "I don't have time for anything like that."

"Well now you will. We're changing your schedule."

"Nemuri, _no._"

"Nemuri, _yes_." She smacked him on the hand for weighted emphasis. "Since you won't accept money for being a hero, we're cutting down your patrol to only three nights a week. You're also going to lose one shift at the coffeeshop, so now you'll have Mondays free of_ both_ jobs."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Go on dates! Meet up with friends! Read a book! _Live_, Shouta! It's not that hard!"

He sighed and scratched the back of his head. His eyes kept drifting to the card. "When am I out?"

"Tomorrow, but both bosses have given you tomorrow off as well to ensure your full recovery. Your first day off in who-knows-how-long, Shouta, so how're you planning to spend it?"

He picked up Hizashi's card again and held out his hand. "Can I borrow your phone?"

-x-

His Ginseng Coffee sat cold and forgotten. He didn't know why he'd made it in the first place, probably to torture himself, but even then he couldn't bring himself to drink the foul concoction.

"This will go_ perfectly_," Hizashi Yamada told his cat. Her adorable face loomed over his as he lay on his apartment floor, contemplating his poor life choices. "If people found out my first hero kill was some guy who could barely stand, I'd be a laughing stock!"

The cat put a paw on his forehead. She was the only one who truly understood him.

"The plan is simple. I'm gonna make him get his life together, even if I have to use force!" The cat meowed and he sat up to pull her into his lap. "Of course I can do that! I'll make him move out of that crappy Capsule Hotel, I'll make sure he eats actual meals, and I'll stop him from overworking!"

The cat purred gently in his arms, but he continued the one-sided conversation.

"It'll be easy. If he refuses to leave the Capsule Hotel, I'll burn it to the ground. If he doesn't eat proper meals, I'll force feed him. If he keeps trying to overwork, I'll break his limbs. This will be _easy_!"

The cat meowed and he gasped in horror.

"I don't **_like_** him!" His furniture vibrated. "I don't. If I liked him, I wouldn't be planning to kill him, would I? Seriously, you're-"

Hizashi was cut off by the sound of his civilian phone. He groaned, imagining it was a call about a DJing gig he no longer felt up for, and he managed to drag himself to his coffee table. There were about eight phones strewn across the surface, most unused burner phones, but he was surprised when he checked the caller ID. There was no name attributed to it, but he instantly recognised the number: it was that Nemuri woman. Had she stolen his number from that card?

"Coolest man alive speaking," he said as if someone were calling about a gig (as they usually did through this number). "What can_ I_ do for_ you_?"

There was a quiet grunt on the other end that he would've recognised anywhere. "You always talk like that?" Aizawa? Was he okay?

"Only to handsome baristas," he forced himself to answer in a chipper voice, even though he wanted to die. Hizashi reached over and sipped his tepid Ginseng Coffee and nearly spluttered into the speaker. Gross! "Maybe I have a sixth sense when it comes to you."

Aizawa grunted a little. "We need to talk."

Hizashi felt cold. Shit, had Eraserhead found him out? He downed the foul drink and forced himself to swallow it. "This doesn't count as talking?" There was a strained silence.

The phone went dead.

Relief swept through him. Oh good, Aizawa had hung up, so-

The phone rang again a few seconds later and Hizashi couldn't stop himself from wincing when he answered it. For a moment he thought he heard a woman in the background. Nemuri must've been with him. So, Aizawa had realised something was wrong with his phone. A shame, but Hizashi could easily put the software on any device that hooked up to that USB point.

"Bad signal?" the blond asked.

"Something like that."

"You wanted to talk?"

Aizawa sighed, "Forget it. I'll be back at work in two days. Thanks for the card and flowers." Nemuri said something in the background, but Hizashi couldn't hear what she said.

"You sure you don't want to talk?" he pushed. "It sounded important."

"It isn't," he dismissed instantly, his voice lowering a little. "But, my lunchbreak will be at the usual time…"

Hizashi smiled a little sadly. "You get out of hospital and you wanna spend your lunchbreak with someone annoying?"

There was a drawn-out pause on the other end. Perhaps he shouldn't have used the word 'annoying', but it still bugged him. Besides, it was a word commonly used to describe him. Even if the barista connected the word to his private conversation with Nemuri, it was far from concrete evidence.

Aizawa exhaled heavily and Hizashi listened to the sound with a disheartened face. Still, much to his surprise, Eraser said, "No, I want to spend it with you."

Hizashi's face grew hot and he had to ignore the feeling of butterflies in his stomach. That concussion must've messed with Eraserhead's … well, _head_. "Then I'll see you in two days, but if you still look like a Walking Dead extra I'm gonna drag you back to the hospital myself."

"Literally or figuratively?"

Hizashi couldn't stop himself from dumbly smiling, "Both."

The call ended abruptly and didn't ring again. Boots wandered over to him and plonked herself into his lap, and he mindlessly stroked her hair as he tried to collect himself. What had the man wanted to talk to him about? Was it about his true identity, or about the fight, or …?

Wait…

Had Shouta Aizawa been trying to ask him on a_ date_?


	7. Americano

Chapter Seven

Americano

The Next Day

Nemuri was taking him back to the Capsule Hotel while giving him about five different lectures. It was his first day off in a long time, yet he'd planned nothing.

Why did Nemuri want him to go on a date so badly? Who'd even want to go on a date with the walking eyesore? So what if he had nice eyes, and a nice smile, and was funny? Not nearly as funny as the man thought he was, only maybe a _little_ funny - in some slight, insignificant, miniscule, very generously acknowledged way. No, Aizawa wouldn't date someone just for those reasons.

Nemuri's next few lectures were on selfcare. She tried to convince him to move in with her, but she lived too far away from his patrol route and he refused to leave it entirely to other heroes, especially when Present Mic was still at large.

He hadn't remembered anything more about the man's description, yet something else had come to mind.

"Take a right here," he said without warning. Nemuri did as instructed, but before she could ask for a reason, he was already overloading her with further instructions. She drove where he requested and eventually stopped the car.

They got out and surveyed the scene.

The police were gone by now, yet the area was still surrounded by yellow tape. It was another destroyed building, albeit larger than the one with the pit trap. "This is it."

She didn't need to question what his meaning was as she stood at his side, watching the wind blow dust and plaster across the crime scene. "It's near the hospital you were taken to," she confirmed, "and it definitely fits the MO of our villain. You were wounded here?"

Aizawa walked across the field of debris, the cement and plaster shifting uneasily beneath his feet, and he eventually reached the centre of the chaos. "He was here," the hero whispered quietly as he struggled to piece together the events. "He rigged the place to explode."

He closed his eyes and listened. The images were too hazy to focus on, but when he really concentrated, he could hear that _voice_.

_Either one of us dies, or we both die here, Eraserhead._

He pulled out his phone and checked his messages. The text he'd received from his hero agency detailing the location of the villain was _gone_.

_Feeling TIRED? Maybe you should SLEEP?_

Aizawa narrowed his eyes and flipped the device a few times in his hand as ideas lined up perfectly. _Present Mic_ had done something to his phone.

He'd messed with the clock, had bugged out his contacts, and had somehow copied Nemuri's voice. The man's Voice Quirk must've allowed him to mimic other people, but that didn't explain how he'd managed to do everything else.

"You just keep getting more and more dangerous, Present Mic." He glared up at the clouds, still trying to piece together the facts, but too much was missing. Somehow he'd fallen unconscious in the middle of a fight, but when he'd woken he'd been safe in hospital. Who'd found him?

_Either one of us dies, or we both die here, Eraserhead._

He pulled out the new phone Nemuri had bought him and checked the news pertaining to the building, only to find there had been zero casualties.

Aizawa imagined himself on the precipice of epiphany, yet the moment disappeared when Nemuri placed a hand on his shoulder. "Shouta," she said quietly, "we'll get him." He let himself relax at her reassurance. "Every hero is looking for him."

"I haven't put together a decent description."

"How many villains do you know run around wearing boombox neckpieces?" She jabbed him in the side. "Today's your day off. Take a nap, go to a bathhouse, listen to the radio, get the courage to ask that cutie on a steamy date - relax and let us do the worrying for you."

He exhaled heavily, but there was no point in complaining as he handed her his old phone. "We need to take this to HQ."

She took it but waggled a finger at him. "_I'll _take it in."

He gave up without argument. "I guess the _Hands Up _radio show is on today…" Wait, wasn't Hizashi a big fan of it? His thoughts were preoccupied as they both headed back to the car.

Neither of them noticed the broken pair of orange specs amongst the rubble, just out of view.

-x-

Hizashi had been tearing through his apartment all morning, trying to find his lost villain glasses. He already knew he'd dropped them while escaping the collapsing building, but part of him hoped he was wrong and had merely misplaced them. Crap, they'd probably been found by the police!

They could get his DNA off them! Well, his DNA wasn't on record, but it was still an unsettling thought…

He swallowed. This was way too much pressure, especially when he was going on air soon. At least he'd finished the playlist earlier, but –

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone. Dammit, who could that be? He answered the unrecognised number with the typical, "Coolest man alive speaking."

"Seriously," replied the mellifluous monotone of Shouta Aizawa, "every time?"

"I thought I already mentioned my sixth sense when it comes to you, _baby_." He forced himself to smile, even though it couldn't be seen. "Two calls in two days? Careful, or I'll start to think you like me or something."

Aizawa grunted in a noncommittal fashion. "You're a fan of DJ Yamada." He didn't even add a question mark. "They play it at the coffeeshop. I'm not working today, but I thought I'd head in and listen."

Hizashi waited for more, but the hero was silent. "Are you asking me on a date?" He held his breath.

Eraserhead sighed heavily into the phone, before he bluntly said, "No."

What the fuck was with these mixed signals? Did Eraserhead like him or not? He didn't really care either way, but it would be a lot easier to manipulate the hero if he did, so…

"Actually," Hizashi said, his voice colder than he'd intended, "I'm really busy right now, Aizawa. Enjoy the show."

There was a drawn-out pause, as if the barista wanted to say something more, but then the phone went dead. Hizashi exhaled so heavily that Boots came wandering over to check on him. He couldn't let any stupid emotions get the best of him. Hizashi had a new plan and he had to be logical, like one of his machines.

He put Boots on the couch beside him and opened his laptop, knowing he had things to do. Aizawa had called from a new phone number that had yet to be bugged, so he definitely knew something was wrong with the other.

Knowing a man like Eraserhead, he'd probably thrown the old one into a river or a dumpster, but there was no harm in checking to see if it could be recovered. The blond found the GPS of the bugged device and almost had a panic attack when he saw it pinpointed to a building known to all criminals: Hero HQ

"Shit!" He slammed the laptop so hard the screen cracked. Hizashi leapt to his feet, dashed for the kitchen, dropped the computer in the sink and turned the taps. It was painful to watch the device get flooded. "Good luck reverse-tracking that."

Dammit, he didn't have time to deal with this, but even ruined he couldn't leave the thing in his apartment! Hizashi glanced at the window and a messy solution sprung to mind.

He pulled on some rubber gloves, grabbed the sodden computer, opened the window and flung the traitorous thing as far as he could. The drop was a good eleven storeys, and he refused to watch his baby smash on the street below. Hizashi slammed the window before anyone saw it'd been open and leaned against the counter with a sigh of relief. The street cleaner would sweep up the pieces during the night.

"Crisis averted," he congratulated himself, but then froze in horror as he realised his big mistake… His playlist for the show had been on that computer. "Shit!" he cursed as he dashed into his booth. He had to make an entirely new playlist before the show began.

-x-

Aizawa sat at his favourite booth in the café with an Americano held comfortably between his fingers. The smell was strong but satisfying, although there was little enjoyment to be found after the unsettling phone conversation. Maybe he should've pretended it was a date. No, why would he do that? Damn, he hated feeling like this. He'd never had these problems before the eyesore had burst into his life!

It was time for the show to begin, and the girls automatically tuned the speakers to the right station.

He closed his eyes and listened to the familiar intro that played at the start of every _Hands Up _episode, and soon the melodic voice of DJ Yamada was all he could hear.

"Hey listeners!" he called across the speakers, a little breathlessly. "You would _not _believe the morning I just had! But all is fine, I am here and I have enough music to get you through this terrible Tuesday! First up, let's take some questions from our listeners! DJ Yamada is here for you!"

A sound effect of a ringing phone cut in and a different voice chimed in, "Hey Yamada!"

"Hey Listener! What sorta question have you got for me today?"

"What's it like being famous? Do people recognise you everywhere you go?"

Yamada laughed and the sound made Aizawa relax. "No, people don't typically recognise me, even though I _am _the coolest man alive!" Man, Hizashi had his competition cut out for him. "Professionals typically build up a public image for themselves. I, for one, wear colourful colours when I want people to recognise me on the street as DJ Yamada, but when I want to blend in I just wear something more muted. It could be as easy as a different pair of glasses! Pro-Heroes do it all the time, so why not other celebrities? Being famous is great, but there're days when you just want to kick back and enjoy a coffee in peace."

Aizawa noticed himself nodding along and masked his agreement by sipping the Americano.

"Next caller!"

"DJ Yamada," said a very familiar female voice, "it's so nice to reach you." The barista stared at the nearest speaker in complete surprise. Nemuri was on _Hands Up._

"It is a busy number and, although I'd love to talk to everyone, there just aren't enough hours in the show unfortunately. But you've gotten through, so tell me Listener, what's your question for the coolest man alive?"

"Actually, I have a good friend who's listening right now who's a huge fan of yours, so my question's more on his behalf."

Life was hell.

Yamada laughed again, but this time Aizawa was_ not_ relaxed by it. "No need to be shy! What sort of question do you have for DJ Yamada?"

"You see, my friend's a complete workaholic, to the extent where he recently ended up in hospital," pointedly explained Nemuri. "I want this experience to be a wakeup call for him, but I'm worried he'll slip back into his old routine. This is less a question, I suppose, and more of a request. Could you say something to my friend?"

Yamada was quiet with thought, but eventually said, "No." Everyone listening was taken aback, but the host wasn't silent for long, although when he talked again, his showy voice had a harder edge to it. "I can't tell your friend to do anything, because I'm not the one he needs to change for. Workaholic, maybe you should be listening less to me and more to your friends. This young lady sounds very concerned for your wellbeing. Listen to her. Live your life to the fullest. Sleep in, eat good, love long, live well. Take time out of your day for those you care about most."

Aizawa stared into his coffee. The black surface reflected the face of a tired man in a shop he shouldn't have visited on his day off. When he'd been a child, he'd never pictured this would be his life at thirty.

He looked so tired and drained and lifeless. His days were as colourless as the bitter coffee he drank.

"But if that's not enough, if you can't change for them," quietly added the voice on the radio, "then maybe it's time to change for yourself."

-o-

Rubble was sprawled in all directions. It was the work of a dangerous Quirk and an equally dangerous mind, and although he knew who was to blame, there wasn't proof.

His shoes cracked across the debris, dirtied by the white dust, while he glanced around for anything of worth. Something colourful glimmered amongst the chaos, hit by the sun at just the right angle, and when he went to investigate he couldn't believe his luck.

His short, grey hair was tussled by the wind as he held up his discovery – a pair of familiar orange glasses - and a smug grin plastered his face. "Well, well, well," he murmured between a burning cigarette, "the Bat's been busy."


	8. Macchiato

Chapter Eight

Macchiato

His day off had been uneventful, to say the least. He'd taken Nemuri's advice and visited a bathhouse to soak, and had stopped into the public library to read a book about hacking; however, he hadn't been able to get through the first chapter without getting completely lost. Technology just wasn't his forte. He'd given up quickly - deciding to trust the professionals - returned to the Capsule Hotel and went about his typical ritual before heading to bed early. The only issue that concerned him was his new phone, for Nemuri had assumed it was the same as his last, but no matter how many times he tried the charger it didn't fit. He'd have to buy a new cord tomorrow and hope the battery lasted.

The words of Present Mic went through his head: _Either one of us dies, or we both die here, Eraserhead._

He'd realised something else: the man had discovered his Hero identity, despite how infrequently Eraser was in the spotlight. The man had a grudge against him personally, and he'd have to watch his back from now on.

Even so, Present Mic's voice wasn't the only one he kept thinking of that night…

-x-

The next day, Aizawa was back to the grindstone, although his co-workers tried their best to pick up the slack. Things had been difficult without him around, and he didn't know whether to be unimpressed by his colleagues or to feel endeared by his self-worth.

They had officially run out of large takeaway cups and were now dangerously low on mediums too. What no one had realised in his absence was that Shouta Aizawa was the one who ordered the replacements, meaning his colleagues had assumed their boss would provide and the boss had assumed the workers would've known. So here they were, ultra-busy, having to serve large drinks in either two medium cups or three smalls. Thankfully they were recyclable.

To make matters worse, the dishwasher had also broken in his absence, and it was almost heart-warming to see how the place fell apart without him - or it would've been if he didn't have to now deal with all these unnecessary problems.

The shift moved sluggishly slowly. It was somewhat true what people said about busy shifts going fast: they did until a certain point. One too many customers above 'busy' and the shift felt more dragged out than a slow one.

He hadn't seen Hizashi since he'd been out of hospital and something about that seemed so _wrong_.

The bell jingled, but even though Aizawa's ears had become conditioned to the sound, he was busily handwashing some cups when he heard a voice behind him. "Well, don't you look domestic."

He turned around. Shouta Aizawa had never been so happy to have his eyes assaulted in all his life. "Do you own anything that _wasn't_ thrown away by rehabilitated hippies?" he breathed.

Hizashi smiled that dumb smile and leaned against the counter like he really was the coolest man alive – which, of course, he wasn't. "Do you own anything that isn't a uniform?"

"You should see me at parties," Aizawa said as he approached the register before any of the other employees tried to take his customer. "Sometimes I take off the hat."

"Let's not get too crazy here." Hizashi laughed. It was a _nice _sound that Aizawa hadn't realised he'd missed so much. "Your lunchbreak starting soon?" The barista nodded and glanced at Hizashi's right hand. He was holding a bag with the logo of a nearby bakery on. Hizashi must've noticed the look because he waved it a little. "I bought you some actual lunch for your lunchbreak."

"We don't allow outside food."

"You allow me in, and I'm an absolute snack."

Damn, his jokes were so stupid, and dammit he was **_not _**going to smile at something that dumb! Aizawa grunted indifferently. "Are you saying I should kick you out?"

"I bought assorted mini-subs because I wasn't sure what you'd like."

The barista narrowed his eyes as if in careful contemplation, before sighing a little too melodramatically. "I'll allow it, but you need to order a large drink."

"Okay, give me a large of whatever you've got planned for me today." He picked out a loyalty card from the rack and slid it over to him. "And don't forget my stamps."

His eye twitched but he efficiently added six stamps before returning it to the blond. "Welcome to our loyalty program," he murmured quietly, hoping his face only felt hot because the uniform was a little stuffy. "We hope you… keep coming back." The blond reached for his wallet, but Aizawa only charged him for a small drink before he proceeded to set out three small cups. He pulled out his marker and wrote on all three before Hizashi could request anything. "Take a seat. I'll bring it over when my break starts."

Hizashi nodded and wandered over to their booth, and Aizawa noticed he carried a brand-new laptop in his other hand, although he didn't question it too greatly as he set to work. Today he'd try something different: he'd constantly made sweet drinks for the blond, but perhaps his taste was more similar to his own. Aizawa made up a large portion of Macchiato before portioning it out into the three small cups. His break began and he carried the tray to the table.

"Careful, or people will think you're a waiter." Hizashi smiled as he gestured at the cups after the barista sat down. "What sort of bad joke do you have for me today?"

Aizawa picked up the first cup and placed it in front of the blond without saying a word.

-o-

The barista looked _good. _He still had bags under his eyes, but they were far less pronounced than usual, and he didn't look so much like a zombie-apocalypse survivor anymore. How could a bit of sleep improve his health so much already?

Hizashi went to take the first cup Aizawa had offered him, when he suddenly froze.

In bold marker and the barista's neat handwriting, the cup read: _Busy tonight?_

He tried to ignore the flutter in his chest as he glanced back at the handsome barista, who was watching him like a hawk. Hizashi very slowly shook his head and Aizawa, silently, placed the second cup forward.

_Date?_

Was he dying? He'd never even known his heart could beat this fast. He was probably coming down with something because there was no way the hero he'd vowed to destroy could make his heart beat like this. Hizashi swallowed. "With you?" Why did his voice sound so shaky? Oh god, he was going to lose control of his Quirk if he wasn't careful.

Aizawa just put forward the third and final cup.

_Yes._

His face felt so hot. Oh damn, was he blushing? How could a hero he was planning to destroy make him blush? This was probably just something fuelled by guilt for yesterday, nothing more or meaningful. Probably just a ploy because the man probably no longer knew how to spend free time and Nemuri had probably been pushing him to do something like this. Probably.

This would be perfect! A blessing in disguise, really. If he got close to Shouta Aizawa then he could help him get his life back together. He could make sure he was eating okay, that he wasn't overworking, that he was getting plenty of sleep. Then, once Eraserhead was at the top of his game, Present Mic would kill him and begin his climb up the villainous ranks.

"Hizashi?"

Oh damn, he was taking way too long to reply. Wait…

"You remember my name?" His own voice sounded so small. He had only ever mentioned his name once, on his first visit, and although it was on his credit card, he'd never noticed Aizawa looking at it.

Aizawa glanced away. "I'm not…_good _with this sort of stuff."

Hizashi sipped one of the cups and spluttered a little at the unexpected bitterness. A Macchiato today. "How could a drink so bitter be made by someone so sweet?" He coughed a few times, before what he said sunk in. Aizawa stiffened and refused to look at him, but Hizashi swore he sore a bit of red in his cheeks. "6pm, right? You're on 'til closing?"

Aizawa nodded, but still didn't look at him. Well, he'd already discovered one weakness: the man wasn't good with 'this sort of stuff'.

In answer, Hizashi picked up the third cup and placed it back in front of the hero.

_Yes._

The barista turned to face him, his expression incredulous. Oh damn, he was hot. It was a good thing Present Mic was a villain, or else he might've felt guilty. God, he had to find out what it was like to sleep with this man before he killed him. His eyes glanced briefly at the scar beneath Aizawa's eye and a pulse of unhealthy possessiveness shot through his veins.

Eraserhead was his prey.

"We'll meet here at 7pm, so I'll have some time to shower and get changed," said the barista, his eyes focused on him.

Hizashi gave him the bag of mini-subs and managed the warmest smile he could muster without hinting at his lust. "It's a date."

-x-

When Hizashi arrived early, he was not the least bit surprised to find Aizawa had arrived before him. He leaned easily against the door of the dark café, his expression placid and his hair down. His clothes were black and loose fitting, as the blond had imagined they'd be, and although he hadn't shaved his stubble completely away, it looked like he'd neatened the whiskers a little.

He was delighted when Aizawa looked at him and glanced away, only to look at him _again_ and straighten up. "You…" began the barista, trying to find any words that could eloquently describe his opinion. "You aren't hurting my pupils."

Hizashi tugged at his colourless shirt and rolled his shoulders, as if he hadn't spent a good hour tearing his closet apart trying to find the perfect outfit. "I thought you'd prefer it if I dressed more mutedly." He shrugged it off like it was nothing. "Is it okay?"

Concern flashed on Aizawa's face. "You know, I don't actually mind what you wear…" He scratched the back of his head and glanced away, trying to decide what he wanted to say. "If you want to wear colours, then you shouldn't let me stop you."

It was surprisingly sweet of him. Hizashi laughed a little and took him by the arm. "I mean, I didn't want to look _too _good, or else someone might try to steal me away." Aizawa just grunted, a little unsure about the man on his arm, but one look at Hizashi made him relax.

"Your moustache still bugs me though." He admitted as he led the way.

"And it will continue to bug you, because the moustache is staying." Hizashi snickered a little and purposefully flicked his hair – he hadn't worn it down for a long time. "So, where're you taking me for dinner, handsome?"

"My favourite place," he answered with an evasive shrug. Hizashi tried to imagine what place someone like Shouta Aizawa had in mind, but when he finally realised where they were going he honestly couldn't fathom why he'd even thought the man capable of anything more than _this._

They stood out the front of the fucking Capsule Hotel.

"Usually it's traditional to eat first and _then _go to a hotel," pointed out Hizashi. "Although no one's ever tried to take me to a _capsule _hotel before, so I guess I'll give you points for originality."

Aizawa shrugged. "This is where I live. The ramen is good." He scratched the back of his head with his free hand, "I've never eaten out around here, so I wouldn't know where else to go…"

Hizashi look piteously at the hopeless man, but just couldn't keep himself from grinning like an idiot. "Is the ramen really good?"

"It's from a vending machine," he admitted quietly, "but I think it's good…"

"Okay, we'll eat here tonight, but only on one condition: if we go on another date, you come over to my place. I'll _make _you ramen." One that was nutritious, that would make Aizawa never want to eat food from a vending machine ever again. "I don't look it, but I'm actually a pretty good cook."

Aizawa thought it over for a whole two seconds, before he nodded his approval.

Thus, their first date began, and Hizashi Yamada made his first grave mistake.


	9. Vending Machine

Chapter Nine

**Vending Machine**

Hizashi realised his first mistake as soon as they approached the lobby: the doorman.

It was the same one who'd been there when he'd hacked his way into the security system, the one he'd spoken at exclusively in sign language. His mind raced as several solutions came to mind, but before he could enact any, the doorman saw him. Hizashi clamped his mouth shut, thankful neither of them had been talking at that moment.

The doorman's face brightened immediately as he opened the door for them, his eyes trained excitedly on the blond. Aizawa, however, didn't even spare the man a glance, although Hizashi was positive he'd noticed how keenly the doorman watched him.

Aizawa pressed the elevator button before the doorman could and, by some miracle, the doors opened instantly. They hurried inside and soon they were on their way up. Hizashi was amazed he'd escaped the lobby with zero conflict. When he opened his mouth to comment, the hero beat him to it. "I've lived here a while, but they've never seen me with anybody before."

Hizashi was relieved: he'd jumped to his own conclusion! Now he had time to formulate a story before they went back down. "How long _have _you been here?"

"Ten years." Well, at least he was honest.

"_How_?" he asked, feigning shock. Well, he didn't really have to feign it, because he genuinely did want to know how someone could do…_that._

"Was supposed to be temporary, but I don't usually have free time. It was logical." They reached the man's floor and Hizashi was greeted by the same sign as last time about it being a male only floor. Aizawa must've had zero suspicions about him being Present Mic, or else he doubted he would've taken him there.

They turned right before they reached the pods and a closed doorway led to a casual eating area with tables and a few vending machines. Everything was neat and sanitised, and they were all alone.

-o-

Nemuri would've had a fit if she'd found out he'd taken his first date to a vending machine. Still, there was something stupidly appealing about spending his nightly tradition with Hizashi.

It had been a surprise to see him in such muted clothing, and it had oddly reminded him of his issue with Present Mic. Hizashi's clothes and personality had been more memorable than the man beneath, so much so that Aizawa had never really taken a good look at _him_.

Beneath the migraine-inducing colour and beneath the thick frames, he was…attractive.

_Very _attractive.

His hair looked so soft and sleek that he wanted to run his fingers through it, his eyes so large and green he could barely look away. Even the little moustache that had inspired so many snide remarks (some spoken, most suppressed) looked sort of _cute_.

He smelt nice too: expensive cologne. There was something familiar about it, but he just told himself he must've smelt it on him before without noticing.

Once or twice he'd caught himself eyeing Hizashi's lips, but a quick mental scolding set him straight. Just because they were on a date didn't mean Aizawa wanted to kiss him! Still, he sneaked several glances at the blond when he wasn't suspecting, and there was something _real _about those moments where Hizashi wasn't trying to be the coolest man alive, that almost made Aizawa believe he _could _be.

Yeah, he was definitely going crazy.

"Which flavour do you recommend?" Hizashi asked as he glanced over the vending machine offerings.

"Is this another time I have to guess your favourite?" he asked as he inserted enough yen.

The blond laughed and pressed the button for Shio noodles. "Just for the record, my taste in coffee doesn't match my taste in food."

"I don't think anyone would like salty coffee." The machine dispensed his noodles but Aizawa retrieved it. "I'll make it for you, since you're making it next time." He shifted his shoulders and decided on Miso flavour, just to have something different to Hizashi.

The blond placed a hand on the small of his back and Aizawa's brain momentarily stopped functioning. "I'll get us a seat then, Mr. Barista." The touch disappeared and Eraserhead, underground veteran hero, regained control of his body. Damn, was he that starved for human touch? God he_ was_ hopeless.

He filled both cups with hot water, bought two cans of coffee, fetched them chopsticks and joined the man at a table beside the window.

"Good thing we had a reservation," teased the blond with a wink. "You wouldn't believe how many people were trying to get this table."

Eraserhead glanced around the empty room but nodded along with the stupid joke. "I bet they've been queuing for hours." Hizashi _laughed _and Aizawa let the corners of his mouth rise a little as he offered him a can. "I hope vending machine coffee is okay. I'd make you one, but…"

"If it's your recommendation, I'm sure it's fine," he said with another wink and took the offered can.

Aizawa served up their food and separated his chopsticks on the seam. "It's going to be a busy night," he murmured habitually.

"Hm?" Hizashi eyed the broken chopsticks and pulled his own apart as well. "Didn't realise chopsticks could predict the future." He cringed when he didn't break them on the seam and one chopstick was fatter at its end than the other. "What does that mean?"

"You need more practise."

"Rude."

They ate in relative quiet, only pausing occasionally for small talk, but Hizashi did at least compliment the taste of the food, although he grumbled about the low nutrition of it. If he knew Aizawa ate this every day, he would've had a heart attack.

Eventually they finished eating, and Hizashi sat back in his chair. "So tell me about yourself, Aizawa."

"Shouta," he said without hesitation.

The blond looked surprised at first but relaxed with a small smile. "Shouta," he repeated back. He had a nice voice. "I'd tell you my first name too, but you already know it."

"Hizashi's your first name?"

He nodded and stirred his noodles. "My mother was from America and never liked the whole first-name-last-name-respect thing. I got so used to calling myself my first name, it just kinda stuck around."

Well, that explained the natural blond hair. "Then what's your last name?"

"You never looked at my credit card?" he asked with a grin and Aizawa just shrugged. "My last name is, surprise surprise, Yamada."

"No wonder you're a fan of DJ Yamada."

Hizashi paused and sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "Actually, I _am _DJ Yamada: coolest man alive. I'm glad you like my show."

The Erasure Hero stared at him, at a complete loss. He gave the blond time to admit it was a joke, but all that came from waiting was an awkward silence. "Your voice is different," he justified.

"Whatcha talking about?" asked the blond in a suddenly deeper voice Aizawa recognised immediately. He frantically gesticulated as he spoke, moving in a fashion that was over the top. "Ya gotta have some pizzazz to ya voice to be on radio, but keeping it up all the time just sounds exhausting! Don't you agree, Listener?"

Huh. No wonder the man had never been to the shop while the show was on. "Did you know then? In your recent show, that woman who called about a workaholic friend, was about…" Hizashi didn't respond, just offered him a piteous smile, and Aizawa nodded. "Thanks for the advice."

"Anytime, Listener. DJ Yamada always gives the best advice this side of radio."

"Okay then, I have a question for you, DJ Yamada."

"Ask away, Listener," he continued in the showy persona.

"I'm on a date with someone who's weirder than me," Aizawa said in his typical drawl. "Where do you think he'd want to go next?"

Hizashi blinked in surprise, before he smiled more genuinely and took his hand in his own. His fingers were warm and all he could smell was that heady cologne. "I have just the idea."

-x-

The blond had almost forgotten about the first roadblock, until they were stopped by the doorman. He smiled brightly at Hizashi and made a big effort of signing, _'Thank you'_.

He was surprised by that. After their encounter, the man had taken the time to look up some sign language. Still, he seemed unaware about what the blond had done while 'charging his phone', so Hizashi just politely returned the sign language and quickly added, _'Keep up the good work!'_

Aizawa said nothing on the exchange, but the light frown on his face told Hizashi he should probably come up with something, lest he raise suspicion.

"This might come as a surprise, but I'm practically deaf." He moved his hair behind his ears so the hero could have a look at his hearing-aids. "My family were too poor to afford healthcare, so I accepted my fate and taught myself sign language." Lies were always more believable if they contained some truth. "I was going to your shop a few weeks back, but it was raining and my hearing-aids got fried. I saw the hotel lobby and went inside to dry off. Since I couldn't hear I used sign language, but he didn't understand me anyway."

While the frown was more subtle, the glint of suspicion was still there. "You went to my hotel as a coincidence?"

He reached out and carefully took Shouta's hand in his own, "Maybe it was fate." One shy smile and Aizawa was rolling his eyes at the corny line. Too easy.

They turned into the place 'DJ Yamada' recommended for their next date location, and the barista stopped to stare at it. "Really?" The two stood in front of a building full of crane-games and plush toys. "These things encourage gambling."

"Nope, they're all skill," he said with a wink as he dragged Aizawa inside. "Let's find a machine." They wandered around the store for a little while, and although the barista tried his best to seem above such things, Hizashi noticed his eyes continually darting to one machine in particular. When the blond stopped in front of it though, Aizawa seemed surprised.

"You like cats?" asked the barista.

The machine was full of decently-sized, round plush cats with bandanas around their necks. Hizashi grinned like a madman. "I love 'em. Even have my own at home called Boots – a real one, not a toy." Was it his imagination or had Aizawa's eye just twitched a little? "Why?"

"I like cats too," he admitted, almost too quietly to hear.

Another weakness! Well, who _didn't _have a weakness for cats? Still, at least it was something on his path to destroy Eraserhead once and for all. "Then I guess I'll just have to win one for you."

While he could accurately hook the toys with the crane, his luck was rather abysmal and the machines somewhat rigged. Whenever the claw picked up a toy, it would rise too suddenly and shake it free. Still, Hizashi was persistent on his quest, and soon he thought it was about to pay off.

The claw hooked a chubby toy cat, carried it to the opening and released it. Just when he thought he was successful however, the ginger cat's bandana snagged on the edge and its descent stopped. So close yet so far.

He groaned and was about to insert another 200 yen, when Aizawa stopped him. "I know all too well how that cat feels." To his surprise, the man put his own money into the machine and had a go. However, he didn't try to rescue the dangling toy, but instead tried to pick up a different one from the pile.

Hizashi watched in awe as the tired man successfully snagged a black cat. His luck was phenomenal as the machine didn't drop the toy until it was hanging over the opening. When the claw opened, the plushie bumped into the ginger cat and sent both down the short shoot.

Hizashi's mouth gaped in amazement as Shouta retrieved the cats and offered both to him. Much to his further shock, Aizawa was _smiling_.

It was the same smile from when he'd been bordering exhaustion, with too many teeth and an air of disaster about it, but Hizashi swore his heart skipped a beat at the sight. "Guess I've got good technique," he said, and the blond swayed a little on his feet.

Whatever the case, Hizashi took both round cats and immediately offered the ginger one back to him. "This one's for you, and don't even try telling me you don't want it, cause-"

Before he could come up with a reason, Aizawa took it, his smile falling to one that was a bit more 'normal'. "Thanks. This was…fun."

His villainous mind told him the toy would be a perfect place to hide a camera to keep tabs on the hero when he was inside his pod, but another part of his mind instantly shot down the idea. "I'm glad." Hizashi checked his watch and had to remind himself he had a radio show to do the next day. "Man, it took us a while to win those."

"It took _you _a while," corrected Aizawa while examining his ginger plushie. Man, he looked adorable with it. The worker manning the small shop offered them a plastic bag to store the toys and Aizawa happily carried it for them. "I'll walk you home."

"You don't have to," he said as they left the store. While his apartment wasn't in the best part of town, he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself without someone to protect him. But … if they got to his place, he could invite him up and maybe they would… "But if you insist. It's not too far from here."

Aizawa nodded and, to his surprise, it was his turn to reach out and confidently take his hand. Hizashi's face grew so hot there was no way he _wasn't_ blushing. "Lead the way, DJ Yamada."

They walked quietly through the streets, and Hizashi tried to imagine what the date would've felt like if he wasn't just a villain trying to gather info about a hero he wanted dead. What if he hadn't already known the man lived at the Capsule Hotel, or what his first name was, or that he was secretly an underground hero? Aizawa was kind, if a bit socially awkward, and although he liked to take little jabs at him he never crossed the line. He was handsome too, and although his clothes were too baggy, Hizashi had noticed the firm muscles beneath the fabric.

Yeah, if he didn't have to kill him, he could've really fallen for a man like Shouta Aizawa.

They were nearing his apartment when it happened. The hero stopped first and Hizashi stopped only seconds behind him. From the alleyway to their left emerged a group of five heavily built thugs, all clad in dark clothes and malicious grins.

"Hey there, Blondie, our boss wants a word with you."


	10. Earl Grey Tea

Chapter Ten

Earl Grey Tea

What an interesting end to an interesting night. They were quickly surrounded by the five thugs, but before Aizawa could say anything, the blond had his back to his so they could defend against flanking. Was he trained in self-defence, or was he just smart? Probably both.

"These fans of yours?" Aizawa asked while he planned out which villain to attack first. From what he could see, three had mutation Quirks he'd be unable to erase, plus he didn't have his goggles, capture weapon or knife at his disposal.

"I doubt they want autographs," the blond said back, his voice sounding strained.

"You got a license for your Quirk?" He didn't know what Quirk Hizashi had, but there was no harm in checking. Maybe – by some miracle - the blond was also a secret underground hero.

"No," he said quickly and added, "but don't worry about me. I can hold my own without it."

Despite everything, something seemed off about Hizashi's reaction, but there was no time as the first man extended an elasticised arm to grab him. Eraserhead activated his Erasure Quirk, his hair floating around him as the burn set in his eyes. The elastic-man gasped and his arm shrunk back. Before he could say anything, Eraser leapt for him.

His boot connected with the villain's face, sending him flying into the street and into the side of a parked car. The alarm wailed – he wouldn't be able to rely on his hearing for this fight. Eraserhead used the momentum to launch himself into the air and his target swapped to the man beside the first. This one sported a cannon in place of an arm. He desperately aimed the muzzle at the Erasure Hero, but Aizawa was on him long before he could charge an attack.

He grabbed the man's weaponised arm while still in mid-air and used it to pole-vault over his head. Eraser's feet hit the pavement and, with the added momentum, he wrenched the cannon-man off balance. The woman beside him inhaled deeply and tried to expunge something from her throat, but his Erasure Quirk was faster.

Still stuck figuring out why her Quirk wasn't working, the woman had no way of dodging the cannon-armed man as Aizawa swung him like a baseball bat. The two collided and crashed into the wall.

From the corner of his eye he saw Hizashi flee into the alleyway. One of the remaining criminals took chase, while the other stayed behind. Eraser ground his teeth together and went to follow suit, but was blocked by a large spiked arm. "Forget him," the final villain growled through her jagged smile. "You should be worrying about yourself." The other criminals were getting back up. Hizashi was gone.

-o-

The blond ran into the alleyway, almost annoyed when only one of the goons followed him. "You here, little Bat?" called the lesser villain as he snooped around the dark. "My boss wants a few nice words with you, so come along and we can all play nicely." The man had a mutation Quirk that gave him a scaly tail and thick spines down his back, but he was nothing Hizashi couldn't handle.

The blond licked his lips – it'd been a while since he'd fought as the Trojan Bat. The man had interrupted his date, so he was going to pay_ dearly_.

The Bat pulled a small, silver disk from his jacket and pressed his finger over the flat surface. A slight vibration told him his print had been recognised: the device was ready. He made his breathing heavier, as if he were scared, and threw his voice so it came from behind a nearby dumpster.

Hizashi didn't need to use echolocation, despite the dark, because the thug moved so heavily. Of course he fell for the blond's silly trick, and even though Hizashi wasn't especially fast, he was still able to slip behind the man and press the disc behind his ear. It stuck fast to the skin and a small red light told him it was ready to activate on his command.

The thug cried out in surprise and swung back with his tail, successfully connecting with the tech-villain. He slammed into the wall but, instead of a cry of pain, the Bat _grinned_.

"What the fuck did you do?" growled the thug as he tried to pull the thing from behind his ear. Before he could, however, Hizashi pressed a small button on his left hearing-aid. The silver disc turned green and the thug cried out as a needle impaled the flesh behind his ear. It wouldn't've hurt much at this stage, even though it'd gone through his skull – the needle was strong yet thin. Even so, when it hooked into the thug's ear canal he winced with horror. Yes, the Bat hadn't used his Hearing-Nail in a long time, so this was going to be _fun._

"I wouldn't mess with that if I were you." Hizashi peeled himself from the wall, barely registering the pain as he stared down the lesser villain. The moon reached into the dim alleyway and illuminated his lenses, creating two pools of white in place of his eyes. "If I get out there and find your buddies have stolen my prey…" He licked his lips as he approached, sadistically turning the wheel on his hearing-aid ever higher. "You're all gonna **_burn."_**

The man suddenly froze, before a wail wracked his body. He grabbed at his ears and collapsed to the ground, writhing, but Hizashi still turned the wheel higher. "STOP! STOP!" begged the criminal through his foaming mouth. "FUCK! STOP!"

Hizashi turned the dial down and the man's body slumped. Yes, as a child the blond's family hadn't been able to buy him hearing-aids, so he'd built his own. He'd read so many books on sounds and frequencies, that it'd become one of his favourite things to play with…and weaponize.

He stood over the man, a beast to be feared. "I have a message for your boss." The man whined at his feet but couldn't say anything above a whimper. Hizashi took that for confirmation as he knelt beside him and whispered into his good ear, "Tell him to meet me at Kurogiri's tomorrow night. He and I can have a _sensible _conversation. Okay?"

The man whimpered, but Hizashi wasn't satisfied. He flicked the wheel back up. Screams wracked the alleyway, joining with the sound of a blaring car alarm, and the blond was reminded of just how much he _loved _being a _villain_. Finally, the man's body gave out and he lost consciousness.

The Bat clicked his mouth in disappointment. "Already finished? I thought you might've lasted longer~"

He placed his thumb print over the silver disk and a small light flashed as it retracted itself from the man's ear canal. Removing it after that was a cinch, and he stored it back in his coat while he pulled out his 'Work' phone and sent a quick message to Kirigiri, requesting a clean-up at his location with co-ordinates attached. If these criminals were captured by the heroes, they wouldn't try to hide Hizashi's identity. How could he become Present Mic if he was locked up before his final debut?

He promised Kurogiri the exorbitant payment, and a portal opened a few seconds later, consuming the unconscious villain with its swirling mass before disappearing entirely.

God he felt good. His pulse was going so fast he couldn't even keep track of it. The man had fallen so quickly it had been disappointing, and now he had nothing else to play with…

"Hizashi?"

-o-

Eraserhead left the villains unconscious and had contacted HQ to send the closest hero on patrol to deal with them, although his main concern was Hizashi Yamada.

Why had that idiot ran? Aizawa had been handling them just fine. He thought he'd heard screams, but it'd been difficult to notice over the blaring car alarm. Thankfully, he didn't have to go too far to find him.

The blond stood in the centre of the alleyway, apparently safe. The villain was nowhere to be seen. They must've fled while their friends were defeated. "Hizashi?"

He turned to him suddenly, as if startled by his presence, but seemed to relax upon recognising him. The car alarm finally stopped. "Did they hurt you?" the blond asked. His voice was barely a whisper, but everything felt loud in the suddenly silent alleyway.

"No. Did they hurt _you_?" He approached the blond, but something in his instincts made him stop. He sensed danger ahead, yet all he saw was Hizashi Yamada. Aizawa wanted nothing more than to run to him, to make sure he was okay, but his feet refused to obey.

Even so, that didn't stop the blond from approaching him instead. "Just some bruising," he admitted, his voice sounding deeper than usual.

The blond approached and a strange _thrill _joined the sight, spurred on by the recent bout. "Did you use your Quirk?" Aizawa managed to ask, his eyes never straying from the man.

"No," he said innocently - nothing about him looked innocent. He was now in arms reach. "He just shoved me and ran."

Before Aizawa could ask any more questions, Hizashi leaned up. Warm arms wrapped around his neck and pulled Eraserhead into a potent kiss.

Adrenaline still coursed through his veins from the fight. His blood was still pumping furiously, and when Hizashi Yamada kissed him like that it felt _good_. Aizawa immediately wrapped his arms around the man's waist and returned the kiss. It was desperate, and passionate, and _hot_. God, was it _hot_.

He slipped his tongue into the blond's mouth without seeking permission and although Hizashi pulled at his hair, he seemed to allow it as he met his tongue with his own. Their chests rubbed together and Aizawa had him up against the wall in moments so he could more keenly ravage his hot mouth. Shouta tried to remember the last time he'd kissed someone like this, but his memory came up blank. Only Hizashi Yamada could drive him this crazy.

Eraser's hands were all over him, feeling every inch of the blond's lithe body, but it wasn't until fingers tugged at his own shirt that he was able to pull away.

The moon shone directly above, illuminating the blond's green eyes, and in that one moment, Shouta Aizawa was happily captured by them. Hizashi's cheeks were finely dusted with red, his sleek hair distractingly dishevelled, his glasses lopsided and, honestly, Eraserhead had never seen anything he wanted more in his life.

He pulled away completely, only to immediately take the blond's hand in his own. "Apartment?"

A lustfully wicked grin lit up Hizashi's face. Aizawa shivered. "Apartment." They exited the alleyway to find the bag with their toy cats still sitting on the sidewalk. Aizawa grabbed it, but was unsettled to find the four thugs he'd knocked out only minutes ago were _gone_.

Hands wrapped around him from behind, but the smell of expensive cologne and the brush of hair against his neck settled him. Hizashi nibbled at his ear and his mind went blank. No, something about this wasn't right!

Aizawa exhaled and turned to capture those lips in another - far shorter – kiss, before he pulled away entirely. "I'm sorry," he managed to say, "but we need to talk."

Hizashi looked displeased by the prospect but nodded nevertheless. He righted his glasses and fixed up his hair - the shift was so dramatic it almost unsettled him. "Come on up, I'll make you tea." There was a pause and the blond seemed a little more like his usual self. "I should've asked earlier, but do _you _have a license for your Quirk?"

Eraserhead sighed, "I'll explain everything once we get you someplace safe." He let Hizashi lead the way inside the building, his senses trained in case they were ambushed again. What had they wanted with Hizashi? He had to find out.

-o-

They were technically called 'Luxury Apartments', even though the area they'd been built in was anything but luxurious. When they entered the elevator, Hizashi pressed the button for the eleventh floor a total of four times. Aizawa offered him a curious glance, but the blond just smiled and told him, "The button gets a bit stuck." Tampering with the elevators had been one of his top priorities when he'd first moved in, but he had better things to think over right now.

They made their way to the eleventh storey, where Hizashi's apartment took up the entire floor. It had once been two apartments, but he'd bought both and convinced the landlord to let him do some…renovations. Of course, a good part of the apartment was hidden away from prying eyes, and there was no way even someone as smart as Aizawa would find out how to get into his tech lab.

If he'd still been hopeful that they'd continue their passionate kissing once they got inside, he was sorely disappointed. Probably for the best – he struggled to control his Quirk during good sex…

Hizashi moved to the kitchenette while the darkhaired man scoped out the place room by room. Of course he was just checking for any villains waiting to ambush the blond in his home, but it was still sort of sexy to see the man being so protective of him.

"Do you have a licence?" repeated Hizashi, even though he already knew the answer. He was interested to see how honest the hero would be after a situation like that.

"Yes," he said honestly. "I'm an underground hero." Aizawa sighed and sat himself at the kitchen table. He looked tired. Of course he did, he'd still had his twelve hour work shift, not to mention the date had probably drained him before the fight. After their talk, he'd be happy to offer him a place to stay for the night, even if there was no sex involved: it would be step one to convincing him to leave the hotel.

"I kinda figured it was something like that, to be honest," he said with a grin as he served them each an Earl Grey Tea. "You were always so tired, plus you ended up in hospital without explanation…" He feigned concern, but was surprised to find it was somewhat genuine. How had the hero _not _expected to end up in hospital on his previous schedule? Aizawa wasn't a moron – a disaster, yes, but not a moron.

"You have to be honest with me, Hizashi," said the man he wanted dead, "why are those men after you?" Ack, sex would've been so much more fun than this conversation! Why would they be after him really? "Are you in debt? Did you take out a loan from a villain?"

"No," he claimed, then immediately regretted it. Damn, that would've been a good lie, but he wasn't stupid enough to do something like that and he didn't want Aizawa to think he was _that _stupid. "I have a lot of money. Maybe they were trying to kidnap me for ransom." An idea came to mind and he glanced over at his recording booth. "Maybe the villains somehow found out I was DJ Yamada and need a presenter or something for some scheme they're whipping up."

Aizawa looked _concerned. _He was clearly trying to piece things together, and Hizashi realised a few truths in that moment: Eraserhead thought _Present Mic_ was behind the attack, Eraserhead had no clue that the 'Trojan Bat' was 'involved', and Eraserhead was genuinely scared for him.

That last point hurt. He wanted to pretend it hurt because he knew he could defend himself, to have it hurt because the hero underestimated everything about him, but he couldn't lie to himself this time.

It hurt because Eraserhead _cared _for the man who most wanted him dead.


	11. Energy Drink

Chapter Eleven

Energy Drink

Present Mic was trying to kidnap Hizashi Yamada. Did he know about their relationship, or did the villain view the fellow 'presenter' as a threat? Something wasn't adding up in Aizawa's head. How had they known he was DJ Yamada when he changed his voice? Well, with the right research it would've been simple to find out, and Present Mic seemed to have some decent contacts, so it wasn't hugely impossible, but…

He glanced around the apartment. It was nice – _really _nice. Of course it would be, DJ Yamada was like a celebrity, so of course he could afford something like this. Aizawa surveyed the place to look for enemies but, even though he'd found none, several details about the blond had come to life during the inspection instead.

The place was _huge_ for an apartment. There were two guest bedrooms, but both were clean and unused. Despite the size of the place, Hizashi Yamada lived alone. Well, _almost _alone_._ Aizawa noticed a few toys around that must've belonged to the cat he'd once mentioned, although the dear was probably off sleeping somewhere. There were a few paintings on the walls but, besides a framed copy of the famous _Nighthawks, _they were uninspiring.

The place was clean, modern and impersonal. There were no photos about, no personalisation, no memorabilia – nothing to prove the blond had lived at all beyond that moment. He hadn't expected that from the man who literally answered the phone by calling himself the 'coolest man alive'.

He knew so little about Hizashi Yamada.

"You can stay the night," offered the blond with a soft smile – it was worlds apart from the devilish grin he'd shown in the alleyway. "There're two guest bedrooms. I bet they're nicer than a Capsule Hotel pod. I live alone but it gets pretty lonely, so I think I'd enjoy the company, especially after-"

Before he could finish the thought, Aizawa's phone went off. "Sorry." He pulled it out and the first thing he noticed was the battery. Damn, he'd forgotten to get a matching charger for it while he'd been out. He'd have to get one of his way home from work tomorrow, or else the phone would run flat. Next, he noticed the number for Hero HQ. Oh, Power Loader must've discovered something about his bugged phone. "Sorry, I need to take this."

"Competition?" asked the blond with a pout as he sipped his tea. "I'd be jealous, but I already know I'm the coolest man alive, so…" He winked and Aizawa moved to the furthest guestroom to answer it.

"Hey," said a firm voice that instantly matched Aizawa's guess, "you able to come to HQ? It's important, about that 'thing' you had 'her' bring in." That caught his attention: Power Loader was being careful. Was there a chance his new phone was bugged too?

"I'll be over as soon as I can," he said with a sigh. Mt. Lady was in the area now, trying to find the source of the earlier villains, so she'd help the blond if anything happened… right?

Aizawa returned to the kitchen but was surprised to find Hizashi was no longer alone. A young calico cat sat in his lap, rubbing against his chest while purring up a storm. A disfiguring scar covered half its face, one of its ears was completely gone, and most of its tail was too, yet the cat seemed so _happy_. It wasn't the only one, for Hizashi was smiling so tenderly it almost made his heart skip a beat.

The blond noticed his reappearance and the smile grew a little wider, although a sadness ran through his emerald eyes. "This is Boots. I adopted her a few months back. A dog attacked her, but her past owners didn't want a cat unless she was 'cute', so they were going to put her down but…"

Aizawa approached, his eyes locked onto the feline, and he noticed a look of uncertainty – almost vulnerability – cross the blond's features. The cat didn't flee, even when he cautiously offered his hand to her. Boots eyed him curiously, before she leaned forward and affectionately rubbed her face against his fingers. Her gentle purrs filled the room. "She_ is _cute," he said tenderly.

Hizashi looked up at him, clearly surprised, and Aizawa couldn't stop himself. He bent down and captured those warm lips in a chaste kiss. They held that position for a few moments, the cat purring away between them, before Aizawa pulled away. The blond's cheeks were dusted again with a scarlet blush. "I'm surprised she likes you," Hizashi said softly. "I don't often have company, so she's usually funny with strangers."

"I used to work at a cat café," Shouta admitted as he blinked his eyes slowly at the feline to signal he wasn't a threat. She purred happily and grated her face against his hand. The sound never stopped. "Did you name her?"

"Her original name was 'Puss in Boots', but I shortened it so people wouldn't call her 'Puss'." He crinkled his nose at the name and the action alone was (almost) cuter than the cat in his arms. "She prefers Boots anyway."

Aizawa actually laughed a little at that, and he almost laughed again at the sight of Hizashi's surprised expression. He couldn't stop himself from smiling. "Baby and Boots: two peas in a pod."

The blond snorted but managed to supress his own laughter. "You're still funnier than you look."

"By that logic, I either look handsome, or I look funny but have an amazing sense of humour, so I'm going to take that to be a compliment."

"You_ are_ handsome," admitted Hizashi with a wide grin, "and witty when you want to be."

"You saying I _don't _look like a hobo? That's what my co-workers think."

"Now I never said you _didn't _look like a hobo…"

No, he didn't know much about Hizashi Yamada, or about dating, but for the first time in his thirty years, Shouta Aizawa was hopeful.

They both laughed again, while Boots continued to purr happily at the attention, but Aizawa reminded himself of the phone call from Power Loader. "I'm sorry to cut tonight short, but I can't stay," he said reluctantly. "Another hero will be patrolling the area closely, but if something happens call me."

Hizashi continued to smile, but there was a confliction there that Aizawa presumed to be fear. He didn't know how he could possibly convey how much he wanted to stay, especially after the blond had been attacked, but if Power Loader's breakthrough could help uncover anything about Present Mic, he had to go.

"It's okay," said the blond in a voice more confident than his appearance. "Go out there and do your job, Hero. Just don't forget my gift." He gestured to the bag with both plush cats and Aizawa retrieved his. It was so pudgy he could've used it as a pillow.

Shouta swallowed as he begrudgingly made his way to the door. "I had a good time tonight, Hizashi. I don't usually do this sort of thing, but … it felt natural with you."

The blond laughed a little and sent him off with one of his trademark winks. "Then I guess we'll just have to do it again sometime, _Hero_."

"You know you can't call me that at the coffeeshop."

"Stop stalling and go. I'll be fine on my own." He held up a fist and waved it around playfully, "I'm a force to be reckoned with!"

"I don't doubt that," Aizawa murmured. "If we're ever in another situation like that, don't go running off. I can't protect you if you're out of sight."

"Then I hope you don't mind looking at me."

Aizawa rolled his eyes and forced himself to leave, still clutching the ginger toy cat close to his side.

-x-

He arrived at HQ around midnight, having quickly stopped off at the Capsule Hotel to safely store the toy and change into his hero costume. Aizawa needed some more practise without his capture weapon so he didn't get sloppy. Power Loader was in his lab, tinkering away on something mechanical.

"Any leads?" asked the Erasure Hero upon entering the lab. Everything here was wires and metal, and it always felt like something from a cheesy, low-budget, sci-fi film. Maijima turned to glance at him, his spiked ginger hair brushing across his shoulder blades.

"You took your time," he commented while he resumed work on the piece of machinery. "I had a look at your phone, but everything appeared normal."

Aizawa narrowed his eyes. "So you called me out here for nothing?"

Maijima shook his head and gestured to another doorway in the room. "_I _found nothing wrong with it, but I had my top student look into it as well. You should go talk to her, cause she definitely wants to talk to you."

Never straightforward with techie types, although he had to give them credit where it was due – they could manage amazing things. Eraserhead headed inside the secondary door and found a room full of large computer screens, flashing lights and a superfluous number of buttons. He was hounded before he'd even taken two steps inside the room.

"You Eraserhead?" asked an exuberant voice to his left. He turned and was surprised to find Maijima's assistant was a young girl, probably no older than sixteen. In her hand was a can of colourfully labelled energy drink. She wore boyish overalls, thick boots and a pair of goggles so crazy they made his look basic. Her hair was tied in thick pink dreadlocks, while her eyes looked like yellow scope-lenses. Before he could answer, she'd already grabbed him by the arm and hauled him into a chair. "So, what's it like to be famous? I'm Mei Hatsume, by the way."

"Huh?" He noticed his old phone on the table beside him, the casing splayed open with the internal electronics now plugged directly into a nearby monitor.

"You _must _be famous, if they felt the need to put this little beauty on your phone! Isn't it adorable?"

So his phone _had _been bugged. "What is 'it' exactly?"

She laughed loudly and rapidly typed away on her keyboard, bringing up images of binary code he couldn't even begin to translate. "A simpler question to ask would be what it _isn't. _This baby can access _everything_! Time zones, alarms, GPS, camera, calls, photos, internet history: _Everything!_" Mei purred happily as she continued to type away, before the screen suddenly flashed red and black. "Look at this cutie! It's trying to bug our system! It's a smart cookie! We tried to reverse track it, but came up with nothing. Impossible to duplicate it too – if you try to examine some parts of its coding it threatens to delete itself."

Aizawa rubbed his temples, trying his best to be patient with the youth. "_What is it_?"

"Malware, made by my personal hero!"

"A hero made it?"

She cackled and slapped him on the back, as if he'd said the punchline of his career. "No way! If a hero made this, they'd be locked up forever! This was made by a villain!"

"Your personal hero is a _villain_?"

Mei slapped him on the back again and by this stage he was too exhausted to stop her. "This guy ain't no ordinary villain, Eraserhead! No, this could only be the work of **'The Trojan Bat'**!" She wiggled her hands, as if she'd just dropped a bombshell.

He thought the name over, but nothing sprung to mind. "And this _Bat_ is your personal hero?"

"He's a genius! I've studied every single piece of confiscated tech he's designed, and in the villain world he's the best of the best! I bet someone would've paid a fortune for him to put this baby on your phone. So what did you do to become famous enough for a villain to want you _this _dead?"

Present Mic: the man must've hired this 'Bat' to mess with him.

"Okay," he said, ignoring the question, "how did it _get _on my phone?"

Mei hummed and typed again at the keyboard, until the screen was once again consumed by ones and zeroes. "As amazing as this thing is, it does have a few flaws. We tested how it reacted in other conditions but found the only way we could transfer it was through a direct connection, or via a transfer." He stared at her hopelessly and she smiled smugly. "You plugged your phone into something you shouldn't've."

"The only thing I ever plugged that phone into was the USB charger at the hotel."

The woman's face grew even smugger. "You think a shoddy hotel security system could keep the Bat out? This guy is legendary! If it hadn't been for my genius, even Power Loader wouldn't've known about this! Have you plugged your new phone into anything yet?"

He mulled it over but soon shook his head. "I haven't got the right charger for it. You're saying someone used the hotel security to bug my phone?"

"Yes and no. He would've needed to physically plug into_ your_ USB port to transfer this baby. Look at the bright side! If the Bat really wanted you dead, you'd be dead by now!"

"What makes you say that?"

"It's the Bat." She said it so assuredly, so confidently, that Aizawa couldn't doubt it. "I took the liberty of going through your hotel's surveillance footage of the last few weeks, and I think I found the time it happened." Mei tapped away at the keyboard and a different screen showed clear security footage, dated from a few weeks back. "He's looped up some of the footage of previous days, but made the timestamp change so it looks normal. The one area he slipped up though was with the rain, although he tried to hide it with flickers."

She pointed to the lower-left picture which showed the lobby of his hotel. He watched it through, but nothing seemed amiss, besides the occasional static flicker. The picture was mostly taken up by the lobby, but there was a very slight image of the window in the corner. "What rain?"

"Exactly," Mei said with a grin, clearly eager to have outwitted her 'personal hero'. "It _should _be raining. Watch it right…here!" There was another static flicker, and he only noticed it because she'd drawn his attention to it: one moment it was dry through the lobby's window slither, and the next it was raining. "So he must've come during this time. Unfortunately that still doesn't tell us what he looks like, but at least it's a start."

Aizawa remembered it _had _rained a few weeks back, the only rain they'd had for a while, but that didn't mean that… He stared at the doorman in the video and a memory involuntarily surfaced.

_"I was going to your shop a few weeks back, but it was raining and my hearing-aids got fried. I saw the hotel lobby and went inside to dry off. Since I couldn't hear I used sign language, but he didn't understand me anyway."_

He stared at the screen as horror sunk in. No matter how many people entered the lobby, none of them were Hizashi Yamada. His eyes flicked to the camera for the sixth floor and something else emerged from the depths of his mind.

_Aizawa finished checking the news and went to his pod for some well-deserved sleep. It was just the way he'd left it, although something unsettled him as he sealed the door. He smelled cologne – nice, but faded and unfamiliar._

The cologne … It was the same as Hizashi's.

Oh _fuck_.


	12. Irish Coffee

Chapter Twelve

Irish Coffee

Besides the Extroverted Hermit, this was the only place Hizashi ever visited more than once. He sat at the villainous bar, running his finger around the rim of his drink while he waited for company. Hizashi Yamada was in his full villainous attire, with leather and spikes, hair standing tall and his Directional Speaker around his neck. He was there as Present Mic.

He'd sent Aizawa a text, letting him know he'd had a great time (besides the villain attack) and that they** definitely **had to do it again sometime. Hizashi hadn't visited the café though, as it was Thursday and he'd had a show to do, but he had plans to go in the next day. He'd visit around Aizawa's lunchbreak and bring the barista something nice to eat while he proposed a second date. Aizawa hadn't responded to his text, but he'd probably had a busy day at work, so the blond didn't take it personally. Besides, for now he had bigger fish to fry.

Kurogiri stood on the other side of the bar, cleaning a glass while the black mist swirled around him. He was a pretty swell guy, in Mic's opinion, who could always be depended on to keep things discrete - for the right price. "Haven't seen you around in a while, Bat."

He pointed some over-the-top finger guns at the bartender. "Present Mic," he corrected in a showy voice and a smug grin. They were the only two there … for now.

"Present Mic," he instantly clarified, and it felt nice to hear Kurogiri confirm it. Mic sipped his Irish coffee. It was good, but now he wondered what it would taste like if Shouta had made it instead of the bartender. It was his third drink since arriving, an idea that would've frightened him in his youth.

When he was drunk, he had no control over his Quirk, but doing business with villains in Japan meant he couldn't avoid alcohol. It'd been hard on him, and he'd once ended up in hospital from alcohol poisoning, but he'd forced up his tolerance. Three drinks was nothing, especially with baileys as the key ingredient.

"I've been busy, _Dear Listener,_" he said, grin never faulting, even as he glanced at the door for the billionth time. "Those _losers_ give you any trouble?"

"No," said Kurogiri, "but one of them wasn't pleased with you. Mentioned he was deaf in one ear."

"Well, well, well," he said with a rolling laugh. "They should know not to interfere with a cool guy like me!"

"Guess it was bad timing," called a rough voice. He glanced back to the door just as a tall man in a suit entered and, to his displeasure, Mic recognised him immediately. Giran: an information broker and illegal tech dealer. The Trojan Bat had once worked for him. It'd been lucrative and enjoyable, until… "Hey Bat. Nice new getup."

"Present Mic," corrected Kurogiri before the blond could open his mouth. Man, he was getting a good tip tonight.

Mic downed his drink and signalled for the bartender to fetch two of something strong as he removed his orange specs. Guess he'd have to do this as the Bat after all. Kurogiri brought them two glasses of whisky and as Giran sat down beside him the blond slid him a drink. "So," he said in his normal voice, "you wanted to have a nice _civilised_ conversation, and you thought the best way to drag me out of hiding was through intimidation. I'm offended."

"Didn't realise you were on a date," Giran answered honestly, his grin _almost _apologetic. At least he remembered not to smoke around the blond: cigarettes were bad for his lungs.

"You're lucky I was," Hizashi said with an innocent smile, although there was a sinister gleam behind his emerald eyes. "If I'd been alone, I would've killed four of them."

Giran sighed, as if it were all some small misunderstanding. "They weren't_ supposed _to attack you, Present Mic." Hm, it didn't feel as nice when he said it. "But, after last time, I didn't think you'd want to talk."

"'After last time'?" Hizashi slammed the whisky in a single gulp; damn he was going to need it to deal with this man. "You were paying me to build weapons for _kids_! I'm not a man who abides by many rules, Giran, but I made it very clear that: Kids. Don't. Touch. My. Stuff!" He bore his teeth at him, anger riling. "That was the one line I never wanted to cross, and you _made_ me cross it!"

Giran sighed and sipped his own whisky. "Look, I was wrong and I'm sorry. Happy? Come back and work for me again. I'll double your pay and guarantee you'll be working on _adult_ costume support-ware only. My customers get good tech, you get paid a fortune to do what you love, everyone wins."

"You think I need your money?" he asked with a sneer, but Giran just laughed.

"Tell me about this hero of yours. You like him?"

Hizashi did the worst thing imaginable: he hesitated. "I'm gonna kill him. I'm making my big debut as a solo villain, and he's gonna be my first victim."

"You're already a pretty scary villain."

"A villain for my Quirk, not for my tech."

"Isn't it your fault Crocodile Dundee was captured?"

Hizashi smiled twistedly. "I built him some replacement teeth and he refused to pay. He didn't know it was me though, just a happy little coincidence."

To his surprise, Giran placed something down on the countertop and slid it over to him: the broken pair of orange specs he'd lost during the building collapse. "You're a crazy one, it's what I like about you, but if you really wanted this hero dead you would've killed him already."

So the man had kept an eye on him since then… "As you said, I'm crazy. You don't know what I have in store for him. I need him alive and unharmed, for now."

Giran waved at Kurogiri for another round and two more whiskies were brought forward. "You made one of my men deaf."

"Only in one ear. He attacked my prey: I couldn't just let that go." Hizashi sipped at the second whisky, still feeling nothing but a slight warmth from the alcohol. "I can get a little possessive." He pulled out the small silver disc – his Hearing Nail - and spun it on the counter, but neither Giran nor Kurogiri were perturbed: the bar was a safe place. If Hizashi even tried to attack the dealer, the bartender would warp him somewhere else and he'd never be allowed back. Kurogiri was too good of a contact (and bartender) to risk it.

Giran smiled. "Eraserhead, right?" His stomach dropped at the name. "Works at that little oxymoron café, stays at the Capsule Hotel, sixth floor, should be asleep about … now. He's a pretty cool guy, or so I've heard, but a bit too set on routine."

Hizashi turned to him, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "If you dare touch him, Giran-"

"In our line of work, why would I need to _touch_ him?" His grin widened. "You messed up my men, and I don't take too kindly to that, so we have to do things the hard way. Work for me and you can do whatever you want to that little hero. Refuse, and I'll beat you to the punch. My associates have been hounding me for your tech, and I don't like to let them down."

Hizashi knocked over his whisky as he leapt to his feet. "What the _fuck _have you **done**?" The glasses rattled at his voice.

Giran laughed, finished his drink and pulled out a cigarette. "Let's just say, I hope Eraserhead can hold his breath."

-x-

Hizashi hadn't visited the coffeeshop, and although the blond had sent him a message he hadn't responded. How _could _he respond?

Hizashi Yamada was a support-ware villain called the Trojan Bat. He'd broken into Eraserhead's life at the behest of the Voice Villain Present Mic, all for some twisted game Aizawa wanted no part in. Had _anything_ been real about Hizashi Yamada, or was it all just some persona he put on, like what he did on the radio?

What he hated most, really, was that he hadn't seen the signs. His life had been fine until the moment Hizashi had walked through those café doors. Only after he'd appeared had everything gone to hell. Present Mic had appeared that same night. He'd always thought he'd fallen into the villain's debut by chance, but what if it had all been planned beforehand? What if the Bat had come to the café to size him up on Present Mic's order?

In the past, women had flirted with him because he was an aloof mystery (who made decent coffee), but he'd thought Hizashi had liked him because… because Shouta was handsome, and witty, and funnier than he looked.

But it was all a lie and that _hurt._

It hurt and he was tired – just so _damn _tired.

That night, while he ate his noodles, he got a call from Nemuri. "Shouta!" she called eagerly over the phone. "How're you and the eyesore? You kissed yet? Dated yet? Done unmentionable things to each other in a public elevator yet?"

"Nemuri," he said quietly, his voice betraying just how exhausted he felt, "can I call you tomorrow?"

She was silent, but only briefly, and when she talked again her voice was genuinely concerned. "Okay, just…don't be afraid to call sooner if you need to talk. I'm here for you." Nemuri always knew when to give him space, which was probably the only reason they'd been friends for so long.

"I know." He hung up the phone but didn't have the appetite to finish the noodles he'd waited all day for. All he could think of was the blond who'd sat across from him only the night before, and how nice it had been to share that with someone. Aizawa threw the leftovers in the trash and went to his pod to sleep – he had a hero shift in a few hours.

The eyes of the toy cat stared at him as he entered, and he couldn't stop himself from remembering how Hizashi had smiled on their date, how happy he'd been, how _right _it had felt to kiss him. Everything had been fine until they'd been attacked. Why _had _they been attacked? The thugs had undoubtedly belonged to Present Mic, so had something gone wrong in their dealings?

He shut the pod door behind him and drew the curtain to get some sleep. As he lay there, he couldn't help but stare at the USB port and imagine Hizashi sitting where he slept, plotting his demise.

Before sleep took him, however, his pod came to life with the colour _red_. It flashed on and off and, before he realised where the light was coming from, the pod's emergency sprinkler turned on.

Dammit, his stuff was going to get wet and he wasn't going to fit in any sleep before his hero shift. Was there a fire?

He shoved his worldly possessions into the sleeping bag and dragged it behind him as he crawled to the pod door, only to find it wouldn't budge. All the other pods were empty, their lights normal and their sprinklers off. Where was everyone?

Shit.

Aizawa checked his phone, but although it was still working, it refused to pick up a signal – a jammer? Always useless when he needed it!

He tried throwing his body against the door, but the tightness of the space didn't allow for enough momentum. The capsule was beginning to take on water, far more than a regular sprinkler should've managed. He turned his attention to it and tried to shut it off manually.

There were no switches on the sprinkler, just the red warning light that continued to flash on and off, leaving him in darkness half the time. He tried kicking it, and he successfully knocked it off, but rather than stop it, water _poured _into the pod directly from the pipe.

_Shit._

He tried to block it with his arm, but with the slight arch of the sprinkler, it was impossible to get the right angle with the pressure, and water leaked through everything else. Aizawa returned to kicking at the pod door, at the very least hoping someone heard, but it was built with thick safety glass. Where _was _everyone? The lock should've automatically freed in an emergency. Was this Hizashi's doing? Was he planning to drown him? Didn't the pod have an emergency drain or something?

The water was up to his chest now and only growing higher. Aizawa opened his sleeping bag and wrenched out his backpack. Water had seeped into it already, but he managed to pull on his capture weapon and grab his titanium knife. The water reached his shoulders.

"Shouta!"

He turned back to the door to see none other than Hizashi Yamada trying to pull it open from the other side, but it was futile. It wouldn't budge.

Water sprinkled out between the edges, not enough to stop the rising water but enough to give him an idea. He inhaled just as the pod completely filled and jammed his titanium knife into the edge of the door. Hizashi continued to pry at it from the outside, and although he was running out of breath, Aizawa pressed all his strength onto the handle.

There was a bang and suddenly he was forced from the pod and onto the hard ground. He was cold, but at least he could breathe. Just as he managed to sit up, a warmth grabbed him and hands were on his sodden face, frantically brushing his hair away. "Shouta, fuck, Shouta!" Traitorous arms wrapped around him, holding him close in a desperate embrace. He was so warm and he smelled like cologne and … alcohol?

Aizawa took hold of Hizashi's shoulders and wrenched him away. His blond hair was down but it stuck out at weird angles, as if gel were through it, and his glasses were gone. He only wore a white singlet, despite the cold weather and the lack of colour, and when his eyes drifted lower: since when had the blond worn _leather_ pants? He looked back up and froze.

Hizashi's eyes were wide, but no longer with fear. His mouth twitched, and the hands on Aizawa suddenly tightened. "They'll burn," the Bat whispered darkly as utter rage engulfed those emerald eyes. His nails dug deep. His face contorted. It was like he couldn't even see Aizawa anymore. "Fuck, are they gonna _burn_." Aizawa's capture weapon suddenly wrapped around the criminal, dragging the Trojan Bat back to reality. His green eyes grew focused. "Sh-Shouta?" He looked so confused.

Eraserhead's eyes flared with red and his hair floated around him, despite the weight of the water. "Trojan Bat," he said coldly and pressed the edge of his knife to the blond's bare throat. "You're under arrest."


	13. Instant Coffee

Chapter Thirteen

Instant Coffee

He'd rushed to save Aizawa _almost_ immediately. Mic had been forced to leave most of his villain costume at Kurogiri's and, although he didn't trust Giran, he trusted the bartender to not let anyone pilfer it. Giran had sat and smoked while Kurogiri had made Hizashi a portal to the hotel.

All reason had left him at the sight of Aizawa locked in the capsule, drowning, and yet the villain had been _helpless_. He owned a million devices that could've freed the man, all uselessly out of reach. He'd even thought of using his voice, but the pitch he would've needed to break the safety glass would've potentially fried their brains. Then there was the third option, going back to work for Giran, and he'd almost considered it until Aizawa freed himself.

Hizashi's hands had been on that handsome face in seconds, checking to make sure his hero was safe, but the relief at Shouta's freedom had been obliterated by the fire of rage. _They'd tried to take his prey. Shouta Aizawa was __**his**_.

One moment he was blinded by fury, the next he was wrapped in thick bandages he couldn't ever hope to break and Aizawa was using his Erasure Quirk on _him_. A line of cold against his throat told him the knife was there … but the man hadn't gagged his mouth. His mind forced away the smoke of rage and focused on analysing the scene.

The man didn't know about his Quirk, or else he would've gagged his mouth, but he knew he was a villain… No, he knew he was the Trojan Bat. If he'd known he was _Present Mic _too, he would've used that title instead.

Calmer than he'd been only moments ago, Hizashi tried smiling innocently at his hero, although that was easier said than done when Eraserhead was looking at him like _that_. Damn, he was sexy when he was pissed, especially with his Quirk…

No reason to play completely dumb, but he had to figure out how much the hero knew.

"There're cameras here," he said gently, trying to appeal to Aizawa's logical side. "If people saw this, they'd think you the villain. Take me to the locker room, change into some dry clothes before you catch a cold, and let's go somewhere private to talk. I'm sure there's a lot you want to know – that you _deserve _to know - but me blurting everything on public surveillance won't help either of us."

"You tried to _drown_ me!"

So he_ did _think he was responsible for that. How crude. Hizashi made a face. "Really? You think I'd stoop to something so simple? Where's the pizzazz?" The bandages tightened and he gasped in pain. Damn, wrong answer. "If I was behind this, I wouldn't've tried to save you." Logic.

"Why should I trust you?" growled the hero, his eyes still red. Fuck, Hizashi was going to get excited if he kept that up.

"If I wanted you dead, Shouta, you'd be dead."

Yes, there were so many ways he could've killed the hero, but that just wasn't his style. He would defeat Eraserhead as Present Mic, _not _as the Trojan Bat. Aizawa narrowed his eyes, still unconvinced, and Hizashi let out a low sigh.

If he couldn't appeal to his logic, then he'd have to appeal to his emotions. "I like cats."

"…What?"

"I l_ove_ cats," he corrected, his voice feeling small, "and movies that use a lot of CGI. Not even good CGI – the cheaper the better. Oh, and music! Most people think I'm exclusively into dubstep and the latest pop hits I play when I DJ, but I love _all_ types of music, especially old songs." Okay, he'd humanised himself, time to earn some empathy. "I'm a nerd, like a _huge _nerd. I never went to school, so I spent my childhood reading in the public library. I loved listening to radio and I dreamed of one day becoming a radio host." He paused to give the information time to sink in, although he was amazed Eraserhead was letting him blabber this much. He continued into his appeal. "Shouta, I've worked for bad people, for bad _bad _people. I'm not saying I'm a good person, especially after what I did to you, but I'm begging you, as Hizashi Yamada, to at least let me explain everything. I'm not the one who did this. There are bad _bad _people who want you dead, and if I'm locked up, I can't protect you from them."

If he was arrested, there was still no eliminating the possibility that Giran would kill Eraserhead anyway as punishment. He had to protect Shouta Aizawa, until the day came where he could kill him with his own two hands. Mic had to find a way to make Giran give up on him, and…

The knife was pulled away from his throat and Aizawa's eyes returned to normal as his sodden hair flopped to his shoulders. He looked…tired. "Did you only visit the café repeatedly to keep an eye on me?"

Hizashi stared at him, surprised, and glanced down. A lie was always easier when it contained some honesty. "To tell you the truth, I'd walked past your café for years, Shouta, but I never went in… I saw you a few times, but I guess I never really had the courage to go in and talk to you, until… I finally went in because, yes, you turned out to be someone I had to keep an eye on, but I never lied when I said you were handsome, and witty, and…" He managed an honest smile, "And funnier than you looked."

It worked.

The scarf pulled away, but he made no move to escape. Aizawa was clearly conflicted, but something he'd said must've struck a chord. "Those dumb pickup lines… They ever work?"

"Only on you, _baby_."

Aizawa sighed and looked around the wet hotel floor. "We can't stay here," he agreed, looking like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders as he picked up his backpack and sleeping bag. "We'll go to the locker so I can get changed, and then go to your apartment."

"You'd be willing to go to an evil genius' apartment?"

"Maybe I just really like your cat." He grabbed Hizashi by the wrist and pulled him to the elevator.

-x-

They were in Hizashi's apartment, and although Aizawa hadn't restrained him, he never let the blond from his sight. Shouta fumbled around the kitchen while Hizashi sat at the table, but he'd been disappointed to learn the man didn't even have a coffee machine. In fact, all he had was the cheapest brand of instant coffee money could buy – Aizawa knew that purely because it was the same kind he'd bought before working at the café. If this man had such a refined taste in coffee, why did he only have this?

This was stupid, and illogical. He should've imprisoned Hizashi immediately, but here they were.

The villain watched him quietly, while Boots wandered happily around his feet, purring at the returned houseguest. The blond's glasses had been waiting for him, but it was odd to think he'd gone to the Capsule Hotel without them.

He'd surprised Nemuri with a call and she'd been more than happy to arrange another hero to take his patrol for the night.

Soon he was sitting across from Hizashi at the kitchen table and a mug of instant coffee was in front of each of them. "Okay, Trojan Bat, tell me _everything _or you're going straight to jail."

Hizashi smiled, but the look didn't reach his eyes. "Firstly, how'd I mess up?"

"Your biggest fan works at HQ. She found the bug on my old phone and saw your error with the spliced footage at the hotel."

The blond looked surprised. "My dangerous, villainous support-ware has a fan at Hero HQ?" He picked up the coffee and Aizawa could see careful contemplation cross his face. "And here I thought my radio fans were weird. Which hero?"

"She isn't a hero, she's a sixteen-year-old girl."

Hizashi was taken aback. He slammed the coffee back down, nearly spilling it over his hands. "You idiots let a _kid_ touch my stuff? That's dangerous! She could've been hurt!"

"She's very competent." Aizawa sipped his own coffee, but the blond didn't relax. Well, at least he wasn't denying it. "I thought you were a villain. Why're you worried about a girl getting hurt?"

"Kids shouldn't be involved in any situation where my tech is the solution. _Everything_ I make is _dangerous_."

Well, at least he had _some _morals. "What's your Quirk?"

Hizashi took his first sip of coffee and the action didn't go unnoticed. "It's called Echo. It's how I got my name as the Bat, but I'd rather you called me Hizashi."

"And you decided to be a villain."

"I _sell _to villains."

"Why don't you sell to heroes as well?"

"If I tried to sell to both, neither would want them. In our world, you can't afford to be neutral. The villains would assume they were getting shoddy products compared to the heroes, while the heroes would refuse to buy from someone who sold to villains. The bad guys are too suspicious, the good too righteous. At the end of the day, villains were more lucrative. I guess it could've fallen either way, but villains have far less restrictions and I never had a real sense of justice."

That made sense – Hizashi had once mentioned coming from a poor family. The guy had undoubtedly been desperate for money, but that still wasn't a good enough excuse. Aizawa hadn't come from the richest family himself, yet he'd never become a villain. Still, as he watched him, he noticed the way Hizashi's blond hair fell about his shoulders, how his fingers mechanically trailed up and down the warm mug, how his brow furrowed whenever Aizawa asked an unexpected question. The man had hurt him, had betrayed him, but Shouta couldn't stop staring. "By selling to them, you _are _a villain."

Hizashi looked away. "Maybe you're right."

"So, who hired you?"

The blond took another sip of coffee and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Present Mic hired me to bug your phone, and to watch you, but I got close to you because I … liked you." He rolled his shoulders while his eyes – those stunning emerald eyes - crinkled.

"When did you betray him?"

Aizawa watched him carefully as Hizashi said, "I found you after that building collapsed. You were unconscious. I was the one who took you to hospital."

Something stirred in Shouta when he heard that. Several more pieces fell into place.

_Either one of us dies, or we both die here, Eraserhead. _

"So he sent thugs to attack you?"

"I guess."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"And a different tech villain tried to drown me?"

The blond nodded. "It wouldn't be very difficult. A phone jammer, a false activation, a lock override…The tricky part would've been making the system swap visitor bookings into the pods on different floors to guarantee you were alone – a major risk of human intervention with that one. Still, too simple and indirect for my taste."

"Have you ever killed a hero?"

"No, but I don't dictate what people can and can't do with what I build them."

"Yet you call drowning someone 'indirect'… Have you ever killed civilians?"

Hizashi hesitated and when he talked his voice was lower. "Never intentionally… Shouta, I can't let them hurt you. I _need _you."

Eraserhead down his tepid coffee in a few gulps. "What's our solution?" he asked, exhausted beyond words. "I should take you to prison."

"That wouldn't stop Present Mic from killing you. You can't go back to the hotel either, or you'll be as good as dead. This is going to sound crazy, Shouta, but you should live here with me so I can protect you."

"No."

Hizashi frowned. "But you could keep a close eye on me and make sure I don't do anything bad."

"No."

"I could make you nutritious meals - morning, noon and night."

"No."

"I have a really big place, way too big for just lonely little me."

"No."

"I have the cutest cat in the world."

"Okay."

"We could have-" Hizashi froze and looked at him like he'd been kicked in the teeth. "Huh?"

Aizawa finished his last mouthful of coffee. "You have a cute cat." Boots happily purred and rubbed against his leg, as if she knew they were talking about her. He leaned down and gently scratched her behind her remaining ear. "So, let's summarise. Present Mic is on the loose and I'm his target. You _were _working for him, but you liked me too much and went against him. How did you know I was in danger?"

"He told me, literally as it was happening. I went straight to you."

"Describe him."

Hizashi sipped his coffee before he answered. "Very over the top and annoying. He's a super loudmouth braggard who never shuts up. He has blond hair that stands up, wears headphones and triangular orange specs. Very showy and loves gesticulating. Always wears leather, and I built him a Directional Speaker for his Quirk."

"What _is _his Quirk?"

The blond licked the coffee from his lips and moustache, and Aizawa had to stop himself from staring too intently at the action. He was supposed to be upset and heartbroken, right? "Voice."

"So it's similar to yours?" Hizashi shot him a surprised glance. "I'll reword it: You both use _Vocal _Quirks?" The blond nodded and Aizawa stood up. "You done with your coffee?" Another nod and he put both empty mugs beside the kitchen sink for later. "I won't throw you in jail … _yet_."

"Let me guess," murmured the blond, "you're going to wait until we lock up Present Mic first?"

"Of course not," he said with a sudden smile. His capture gear flew forward and instantly tied Hizashi up, gagging him the process. His emerald eyes widened with shock. "I'll put you in jail once the one who _really _tried to drown me is captured. You, on the other hand, are a bad, _bad_ liar." Hizashi struggled against the bindings, but to no avail. "So, first of all, we're going to find out what's true and what's not, Hizashi Yamada. We both have some _'frustrations'_ to work out, and I have a solution that's fun _and_ informative."

Eraserhead carried the captured villain to the master bedroom and shut the door behind them so the cat would stay out. The scarf dropped him on the bed, but Aizawa activated his Erasure Quirk before the blond had any funny ideas.

Hizashi's face was red but confused. "Shouta?"

"Maybe you don't really _like_ me, but you at least _want _me. You weren't acting when you kissed me in the alleyway." The capture weapon snared the blond's wrists and tied him to the bed as he approached.

"What're you doing?" hissed the Trojan Bat, but his struggling had surprisingly lessened – he didn't _really _want to escape this. This was turning him on.

"Tell me to stop and I'll stop – I promise." Aizawa crawled on top of him and cupped the villain's soft face.

He hadn't even done anything, yet lust was already bubbling in those emerald eyes, especially when he leaned down and captured his flippant lips in a sordid kiss. Aizawa put all his feelings into it – his heartache, his betrayal, the pain and hollowness the blond had inspired in him. The ensnared villain tried to take it further, but Aizawa pulled away. Yes, they had 'frustrations' to work out, but this would help them both.

"This is how it's going to go: I'll ask you questions and you're going to answer. Answer honestly and you'll be rewarded. Answer dishonestly and… there'll be consequences." He removed the man's thick glasses so he could get a better look at his stunning emerald eyes. "How does that sound, _Present Mic_?"


	14. Decaf

Chapter Fourteen

Decaf

Hizashi Yamada could genuinely admit he'd never once imagined himself in this situation, tied to his own bed by the man he wanted in every possible way, and _hating _it. Fuck, where'd he gone wrong? Where'd been the flaw in his lie, when all along Aizawa had been jumping to wrong conclusions without his help?

"Let's start with something easy," murmured Eraserhead, his voice sounding so _fucking _sexy that Hizashi wanted to kill him. "Is Hizashi Yamada your real name?"iHi

He stared into those red eyes, but he doubted his Voice Quirk would help him in this situation even if he _could_ use it. "Yeah," he said so quietly he felt it necessary to add, "it is."

In response, Aizawa leaned down and appeased him with a more aggressive kiss. An expert tongue slipped between his lips and massaged the most sensitive areas of Hizashi's mouth, driving him crazy with such a simple touch. However, just as he was beginning to get into it, Aizawa pulled away.

Hizashi hadn't realised he'd closed his own eyes until he stared up into those blazing red orbs and shivered. "No point," the villain whispered quietly. "Without speaker, would hurt myself too…"

Aizawa caressed his cheek like a lover. "You've been lying to me for weeks." There was hurt in those tired red eyes, forcefully masked by budding desire.

Hizashi leaned into his touch, his brain fogging with lust. "Need you alive."

The hero ran his tongue over his jawline, sending electricity down his spine. "What for?"

Fuck, he had to think of something. "Care about you," he murmured, and immediately gasped in pain when Aizawa pinched his arm.

"What did I say about lying, Mic?" Fuck, his voice was so sexy when he was trying to sound dangerous. Why did Hizashi get off on things like this? Aizawa's fingers loosened. "That was a warning. What do you need me alive for?"

Mic screwed up his face, trying to stop himself from spilling his secrets, but he'd been caught in the spider's web - if he wasn't careful, he'd be devoured. "Gotta kill you myself…" He opened his eyes to glare heatedly at Eraserhead. "You ruined my debut."

The hero _smiled_ and gently kissed the area he'd just pinched. "I was flung into the hole you dug," he admitted coolly as his raven hair fell about his shoulders and the red glow vanished. "You ruined your own debut. You left your mark though, beneath my eye." He continued to kiss along his arm until he reached Hizashi's neck, where he placed a kiss beside his Adam's Apple. "Why'd you take me to hospital the second time?"

The blond moved his head to give the man better access to his neck. "Roof caved. You saved me, but you got hurt. Decided I didn't want to kill you when you were weak…" Hands ran down his tank top and lightly tugged at the material, teasing out an extended answer. "I'm gonna kill you, Eraserhead, but not until you're worthy of killing~"

"You didn't get close to me because someone else told you to?"

"No."

Aizawa pulled away from his neck to give him a look of … _relief_? "Okay," he said cogently while he peeled off the blond's shirt. "What should I do?"

"Sleep, eat, live, don't overwork."

His shirt was pushed over his head and, although it couldn't be removed with his arms tied down, Aizawa now had access to his bare chest. "Okay." He kissed again at Hizashi's neck while his rough hands caressed his sides.

"Okay~?" he gasped quietly, his mind going crazy. The man was barely touching him, yet his body felt so _good_.

"Okay." His lips traced down his throat and began to kiss one of his pert nipples, drawing out a loud gasp from the villain. "Why date me?"

"Handsome, witty, funny," he managed to list, even as the man ran his tongue over his nipple and blew cold air over it. Hizashi had to stop himself from moaning, lest he accidentally use his Quirk.

"And the main reason?"

The blond trembled, but there was no reason to lie when Aizawa already knew the answer. "Wanted to be close to … convince you to improve."

"You're doing well." Without warning, Shouta bit down on the nipple. A moan ripped through Hizashi's throat, but he stymied it at the last moment by biting his lip. Fuck, he needed to free his hands to cover his mouth, or else he was going to end up with some very abused lips. Aizawa pulled away to remove his own shirt, allowing the blond a chance to calm himself.

One look at the darkhaired man's body, however, instantly reignited his desire. The man was thin, but so thickly muscled from a life spent performing acrobatic feats and hard training that it was no wonder the hero had survived for so long. Several scars lined his body, larger than the one beneath his eye, and that unhealthy possessiveness coursed through him.

_He_ was the only one allowed to mark that body. Aizawa belonged to _him_.

"How'd you know…?" asked Hizashi through the haze of longing. "That I was Present Mic…?"

"You're a bad liar under the right conditions." He shrugged his shoulders and damn he could have happily watched those muscles move all the damn day. "You had a tell in our conversation earlier. When you had to think about a lie, you sipped your coffee to give yourself time to think. Plus, you reminded me of something with that word: annoying. I used it to describe you to Nemuri over the phone once, and yet you've brought it up_ twice_."

"Twice?"

Aizawa fiddled with Hizashi's belt, taking his sweet time to undo it. "Once over the phone, when I told you I wanted to spend my lunchbreak with you, and again only minutes ago when you were describing Present Mic. You listened to my call with Nemuri so you could mimic her. Did I upset you?" The belt was finally freed and tossed to the side while Aizawa toyed with the hem of his leather pants.

There was a drawn-out silence, only ended when Hizashi realised the hero had asked a question. "You did…"

"Then I'm sorry." He leaned down and kissed his lips tenderly, sending a shiver through his body until he pulled away.

It almost made it okay.

"But the final straw was right here…" His hands pulled down Hizashi's pants, the leather feeling hot against his skin as it was removed. "Before today, I'd never seen you like this: no glasses, white tank top,_ leather_ pants. It was true what you said, whoever tried to drown me told you as it was happening. You were talking with a villain, so of course you'd been in costume, and you rushed to help me without properly changing. DJ Yamada once talked about wearing colourful clothes to stand out. Present Mic wore dark leather, but Hizashi wore enough colour to blind a tired barista. I'd never been able to describe Mic properly as his costume stood out so much, and on our date it was the same with you. Mic wore leather, Hizashi wore colour…and yet there you were, Hizashi, in leather."

"Leaps in logic," Hizashi accused, almost bitterly.

Aizawa smiled that toothy smile. "Well, maybe this was all a rational deception that you just confirmed." Hizashi might've punched him if his arms weren't tied down. The hero licked his palm and slipped his hand into the blond's briefs, firmly grasping his length. Hizashi _moaned_. The bed vibrated with the sound. "Then I guess it's time for my next question: who sent those villains?"

The slicked hand torturously stroked him. Hizashi saw stars. "Giran." No fucking way was he going to lie _now_.

Aizawa stripped him of his briefs and removed his own boxers shortly after. The next thing Hizashi knew, there was something _warm_ pressed against the underside of his length. When he looked down, he was awestricken to see the hero's shaft pressed against his own as Aizawa stroked them together. Hizashi was by no means small but, fuck, Aizawa was _big_. "Who?"

Hizashi moaned lowly as those rough hands worked them together, and he saw more stars when Aizawa nibbled at his neck. His mind went blank, until the hero stopped. Dammit. "Information broker," he groaned out. "Used to work for him. I quit, but wants me back." Hizashi bucked his hips, desperate for friction. "Lube … left drawer…"

"Why does he want to kill me?" Aizawa pulled away to retrieve the bottle, and Hizashi couldn't keep himself from whining at the neglect.

"I refused to work for him! He knows I want to kill you myself, so he's blackmailing me! Can we continue this conversation later? I'll tell you the truth, I swear!"

"You're doing well – reward worthy." Aizawa smeared the lube over three of his digits. "You okay being bottom? I'm clean, but we can use a condom if you want."

The blond whined in frustration and spread his legs, hoping to encourage the hero to hurry up. "Clean too," he said while bucking his hips. "Need a hand free though… To cover my mouth… Can't control Quirk during sex… Might blow your eardrums, might collapse the building."

"Too bad." Aizawa slid his hand between Hizashi's legs and teased his entrance with one finger. "I'm going to make you scream."

The villain gasped and arched his body against the feeling. "B-But, if I-"

"I'll use my Quirk."

Before Hizashi could even agree, Aizawa's first finger entered him. He cried out, but one look at red eyes told him all he needed to know. Eraserhead thrust his first digit in and out several times, before he finally found what he was looking for. Hizashi moaned without restraint while Aizawa toyed with his prostate and impatiently inserted his second finger to add a scissoring motion to the stretching.

The villain bucked his hips against the fingers, having never felt so free to moan and cry out before. It was exhilarating. When Aizawa inserted his third finger, he didn't feel the slightest bit of discomfort, although he wished he could run his own hands over those finely-tuned muscles. The hero didn't release the restraints, but he did distract Hizashi with another fervent kiss, their tongues clashing for dominance, while fingers were removed. It was endearing how impatient the man was to be inside him.

He pulled away and Aizawa took a minute to lube his shaft and rest his eyes. Hizashi tried to catch his breath, tried to calm himself, but he was so desperate for more. He wanted him badly. Still, an odd question entered his mind, one he'd never thought to pose, the same one Aizawa had asked him only minutes before. "Why date _me_?"

Aizawa's expression was curious, as if even he didn't know the answer, but he still tried to find one. "Your pickup lines are stupid," he said bluntly, "and your clothes should be arrested for the attempted murder of my retinas." He crinkled his nose a little, trying to get at something but unsure of how to word it. "Your voice is … _calming. _I liked your laugh, and your eyes, and your smile, and maybe sometimes even your stupid jokes. I_ … liked_ _you._" He glanced away and gruffly clarified, "I _still _like you, despite … _everything_."

Hizashi didn't even know how he could respond to something like that, especially in the current situation. "And your eyes…? What if you need to blink and-"

The blond was silenced by a kiss, softer than the previous few, while Aizawa's hands glided across his body. When he pulled away, the hero pressed their foreheads together and firmly said, "When I see you like this, I don't want to blink."

His hands lifted his hips and Hizashi could feel him pressing against his entrance. His legs wrapped around Aizawa's waist and, although he tried to make him enter quicker, the hero decided the pace as he slowly slid inside. Hizashi moaned desperately at the feeling of being filled, arching his back as he let the sounds escape without worry.

For a man who'd been fearful of his own Quirk his entire life, there was a thrill to temporary liberation.

He whined once Aizawa was completely inside. His legs trembled as they squeezed the hero's waist, and his breathing was already ragged with pleasure and desire. "M-Move," he begged, the word a half moan.

-o-

Hizashi looked so damn _good_. His face was red with utter need, his emerald eyes glazed with want, his lips wet and glistening and raw. He felt so damn _good _too. His body was hot both inside and out, and a thin layer of sweat coated him from their light foreplay. Whether it was because of his Erasure Quirk or in spite of it, Aizawa didn't want to miss that sight for a second.

He rocked his hips, slowly at first, trying to get the blond used to his size. Those sexy sounds never stopped pouring from Hizashi's throat, with no Quirk to change his voice. Aizawa could've listened to him for hours.

No, he wanted to hear him _scream_.

The barista pulled most of the way out and changed his angle. "How many have seen you like this?"

He suddenly thrust back in, hitting the blond's sweet spot. Hizashi went to scream in pleasure but instinctively choked back the sound. Still scared of his Quirk, even like this. He hadn't answered him either. Aizawa grinded against his prostate, milking out more torturous moans before Hizashi finally relented, "Like th-this? Only y-you…make me like this~"

The answer pleased him enough to pick up his pace. He imagined Hizashi's hands on him, his nails digging into his back and his fingers in his hair, but the thought wasn't enough to risk untying him just yet. It's not that he thought the man posed a danger to him, he just looked so stupidly sexy when he was at his mercy, and after his betrayal Hizashi deserved this slight cruelty.

Maybe Aizawa wasn't a real hero for harbouring such a thought, but having the Voice Villain tied beneath him got his blood pumping.

He aimed for that pleasure spot, gauging a pace that was hard and fast, while Hizashi's legs frantically struggled to cling to him. Aizawa grabbed one of his legs and pushed it up so he could have better access to his sweet spot, and he finally got the reaction he'd been hoping for. "Shouta~!"

Aizawa had to anchor himself by kissing the blond's ankle, lest he lose himself entirely to that beautiful voice. His thrusts grew faster, more desperate, and Hizashi cried his name with every movement. He was reaching the limit of both his Quirk and his pleasure, and he'd have to relinquish one before the other.

He wrapped his arms around the villain's chest and pulled his traitorous lips into a desperate kiss, taking the chance to rest his eyes before the climax. Hizashi moaned into his mouth, his Quirk active. The voice sent a harmless vibration through Aizawa's body, and it only served to fuel him further as he squeezed Hizashi's length between his fingers and pulled their lips apart. "Inside or out~?" he groaned as he reactivated his Erasure Quirk, intent on drinking in every detail about the villain's face when he finished.

"In, or I'll f-fucking kill you," Hizashi managed, so close to the brink.

He pumped him along with his last few thrusts and Present Mic _screamed _as he finished. The sound was deafening, even without his Quirk, but Eraserhead never took his eyes off him, even as he joined him over that edge. Hizashi's toes curled as Shouta filled him, his legs tightening like vices around the barista's waist, holding him in place. Both were panting so hard as the bliss slowly left them, emptied out like water from a stream, leaving nothing but that sense of betrayal and hollowness behind. He let himself memorise Hizashi's adulterous scent: the smell of books and sweat and sex and that expensive cologne.

Aizawa should've felt stupid for what he'd done, or even guilty or unethical, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he finally pulled out. The blond moaned one last time, a weak but satisfied sound, and Eraserhead felt his hair fall about his shoulders as he closed his eyes.

"Fuck, that was good… but… w-was it necessary?" said the blond between pants, his face still flushed with heat and desire.

If Aizawa weren't so tired, he almost certainly would've taken him again. "No," he admitted as he sat on the edge of the bed. "I wanted honesty, you wanted me, I compromised."

"Not a very heroic th-thing to do, to tie someone to a bed and have your w-wicked way with them." Hizashi tugged at the restraints, looking helpless, but Aizawa knew better than to trust the pretty face. Perhaps he was a bad liar, but this man had been manipulating him for weeks.

"If you'd told me to stop, I would've stopped. I promised, remember?"

Hizashi sighed heavily and looked over the hero's body, those green eyes tracing his numerous scars. "Was it worth losing your V-card to a villain?"

"I didn't."

He paused. "Wait…You're not a virgin? Well, _weren't _a virgin?"

"I've never dated before," he admitted quietly, "but I've had one-night stands. Simple, logical, no strings. Maybe I'm rusty, if I gave you that impression…" He exhaled heavily and scratched the back of his head. "Either way, Hizashi, I wouldn't have done it if I didn't want you too … I didn't want it to be like this, but I suppose nothing's turned out as we imagined. Can I trust you enough to untie you?"

The blond looked at him, without even a hint of exhaustion on his face. "No way would I be willing to do anything even remotely evil until I at least have a shower." Hizashi moved his legs a little and paused as his face grew redder. "Yeah, definitely a shower and a new blanket on the bed… You… I think you were really pent up…"

The man wasn't a threat to Aizawa, at least not right now. He wanted Eraserhead to be at his 'best' when he fought him. It was crazy and irrational, but he wasn't one to question the logic of a villain's bruised ego. The capture weapon fell away from his arms and rewrapped itself around Aizawa's shoulders, but all Hizashi did was rub his sore wrists and finish removing his tank top.

"We'll share," the hero said softly as he pulled off his capture weapon.

Hizashi joined him on the edge of the bed and cupped the barista's face between his warm fingers. His instincts kicked in as he reactivated his Erasure Quirk but, to his surprise, Present Mic leaned forward and gently kissed the scar beneath his right eye. "You're mine, Eraserhead: my bridge." Possessive green eyes burrowed into his red irises, and in that moment Hizashi Yamada was a villain to be feared. "And until I kill you, you're not allowed to die, or I'm going to burn this world to the ground."

There was not a single doubt in Aizawa's mind that he would.

A heroic man would've locked up the villain, a sane man would've ran, but Shouta Aizawa was neither of those things. His hair fell about his shoulders as he closed his eyes and, as he pressed their foreheads together, he willingly conceded, "Okay."


	15. Green Tea

Chapter Fifteen

Green Tea

He ached in questionable places, but Hizashi Yamada relished the feeling as he turned the shower on. It'd been a while since he'd last had sex, and an even longer while since he'd had _good _sex.

Aizawa leaned against the bathroom wall, watching him quietly as he brushed the knots from his long blond hair. Hizashi watched him back through the mirror and noticed how the barista's eyes weren't hungrily ravishing his naked body, but were instead innocently following the route of the brush. Such a weird guy… "Want me to brush your hair?" chanced the blond. "Oh, sorry, I'm going way too fast for you…" Hizashi spun around and showed him the brush with a smug grin, swapping his voice to that of DJ Yamada. "Well, _Dear Listener, _this is called a 'Hairbrush', yo!" As he spoke, he gesticulated intensely, waving the hairbrush around as if it were a microphone. "People use it on the hair on their head to make it all neat and tidy! No offense, _Listener, _but clearly you've never used one before, yo, but DJ Yamada would be happy to show you how it works with a free demonstration!"

Shouta blinked those tired eyes at him. He thought he might've been offended, but when the hero spoke he convincingly said, "Never heard of it." He pulled himself from the wall and joined him beside the mirror.

Hizashi snickered at his vapid delivery and brushed through his unruly raven hair for him. He had so many tangles, but he was careful not to hurt the hero as he set to work. Even though the villain was (slightly) taller, Aizawa leaned against the counter so Hizashi could have better access to Eraserhead's head. "Well you're in luck, _Dear Listener,_" he continued in the same voice, "cause if you're staying here, DJ Yamada will live up to his title as the coolest man alive and will happily lend you a spare!" He opened the cupboard, revealing three more identical hairbrushes.

The barista's eye involuntarily twitched. "Why do you have _four _hairbrushes?"

"I used to have five," he said, back in his own chipper voice, "but Boots chewed one up. I'd offer you a razor too, but it looks like you wouldn't use it, hobo." He sniggered but, as he brushed the tired man's hair, his expression fell. Right, this could've been a scene from a sappy romance movie without any context. When he spoke again, Hizashi's voice was level and serious. "I have to take out my hearing-aids to shower. I can hear a little without them, but I'm not much of a conversationalist."

To his surprise, Aizawa made a few hand gestures he recognised as sign language, '_Do you want me to sign?'_

Hizashi blinked in surprise and signed back, '_You know sign language?'_

_'Yes, but rusty. Anything I don't know I can spell out.'_

He shook his head and murmured, "I love to talk, but I think even I'm done for the night. I need quiet time to think." Shouta nodded in understanding and Hizashi removed his hearing-aids. The world grew muffled, as if he were hearing it through tight headphones, but he noticed the way Aizawa examined the devices as he put them in a small box.

Self-built beauties, the reward of hundreds of hours spent reading and tinkering, yet he still couldn't make them waterproof. They were the key to his entire persona as the Trojan Bat, as much as he hated the name. Many of his personal weapons centred on them, even his echolocation and sonic attacks. He wore headphones as Present Mic to hide them though, and to keep himself from using them.

The Bat might've relied on his wits and weapons, but Present Mic relied solely on his hazardous Quirk. They were two different personas, as good as two separate people to Hizashi Yamada.

A hand pressed against his lower back, the touch soft and purposeful as Aizawa ushered him into the shower. It annoyed him at first. People always treated him differently because of his hearing, like somehow it made him less of a person, but then Aizawa pressed him against the shower wall and _kissed_ him.

He didn't ravish his mouth, or tease him, or try to start another round of sex – it was just a gentle press of lips against lips. Without his hearing-aids, Hizashi was putting himself into a more vulnerable state, and Aizawa recognised that.

He wasn't acting like this because he'd been deemed less of a person, but because, without them, the hero was a bigger threat. There was at least some trust between them, as temporary and as fragile as it was, and the kiss was a sign of gratitude.

They parted and had a long shower together. It was nice, really, even if it felt more like they were strangers than… Could they even be called anything else? They interacted very little, each sticking to their own routine as they cleaned themselves of the day, but it became instantly clear that the blond had the far longer routine. Aizawa looked exhausted but stayed in the shower with him until he'd finished, and he reminded himself that the barista hadn't slept in potentially 24-hours.

"I need to dry my hair," warned the blond. Without his hearing-aids his voice sounded far, far away, although he could feel the vibration of his throat and bones as he spoke, along with the light slip of oxygen from his mouth. "You okay?"

Aizawa silently nodded and wrapped a towel around himself as he settled on the side of the tub, watching him with those tired eyes. While Hizashi dried his hair, he formulated his plan.

For now, they had a truce. Shouta wasn't going to arrest him (yet) and Hizashi wasn't going to kill him (yet). They had to take down Giran, yet he also had to wait for Eraserhead to reach peak physical condition for their fight. If they found the broker too soon, Hizashi would be arrested, but too late and Eraserhead might be killed by someone else.

One week then. He had one week to get Aizawa's life together, but that would be tricky, even though the hero had agreed to it. One week as well to plan out what he was going to do about Giran.

What _they _were going to do about Giran.

He glanced back at Aizawa and was surprised to find he'd fallen asleep sitting up. Hizashi finished drying his hair and put only one of his hearing-aids back in. "Shouta," he said quietly, knowing better than to startle a sleeping hero. The man opened his eyes, blinked a few times and looked up at him – of course his black hair was still damp. Hizashi placed a towel on his head. "You are _not _going to bed with wet hair. You'll get sick, or worse, you'll ruin my pillows."

The tired man grunted and towel dried his hair, while Hizashi went to find his pyjamas and replace the blanket on the bed. Aizawa had brought his sopping sleeping bag - and everything else he owned – with him after the near-drowning incident. Amongst the possessions was the stuffed cat he'd (_they'd) _won during their date, and he caught himself smiling gently at it as he remembered how nice that night had been before the villain attack. His own toy cat was still on the counter. It had only been the previous night, yet it already felt so far away. Boots, his real cat, had already curled up in her cushioned bed to sleep.

He heard Aizawa leave the bathroom through his one hearing-aid and Hizashi told him, "There're two guest bedrooms, or a couch if you prefer. Your sleeping bag's outta commission though."

"I'll sleep in your bed," he answered evenly, still clad only in a towel.

"I'm using it, so good luck with that."

"We'll share."

"You'd wanna share a bed with a villain?"

Aizawa shrugged and Hizashi was annoyed to notice his hair was still damp, but he let it go (this once). "I had sex with one - sharing a bed doesn't sound as bad."

The blond shot him a look that was incredulous, humorous and offended, "Did you just insinuate I was _bad _at sex? You're the one who wouldn't let me use my hands, not to mention your game of 20-_billion_ questions. I'm the best sex you've ever had, admit it!"

"Was _I_ bad?" There was that smile again: too many teeth, menacing, yet insultingly attractive.

Hizashi rolled his eyes, but couldn't keep himself from taking in the sight of his muscles. "Good sex, bad company," he settled on with his own menacing grin.

"You sleep with a hearing-aid in?" Shouta asked, changing the topic.

"Have to. I might get attacked in my sleep, or I might start using my Quirk. All the more reason for you to sleep on the couch so I don't interrupt_ your_ sleep."

"You'd be surprised what I can sleep through," he murmured quietly. "You're a villain with a dangerous Quirk who _should _be in jail. I'm keeping you close."

"And while you're working?"

Aizawa rubbed his temples, apparently done with the conversation. "Hizashi, I'm keeping you close 24/7. Be ready by 5:50am. I'm taking you to work, where you can sit and do something techie on your laptop until my shift ends. This isn't for debate."

Hizashi looked horrified. "Why would I agree to that?"

"You need me alive, and the only way you can guarantee that is to keep an eye on me. Your presence will be a deterrent and keep Giran's thugs away from the café." Hizashi was about to question the deterrent part, but Aizawa beat him to it. "They're scared of you, whether it's because you're Present Mic or the Trojan Bat. The fact they must 'persuade' you to work for them speaks volumes. If you weren't a threat, they would've kidnapped you. What happened in the alleyway?"

"The alleyway?"

"When the villains attacked. What did you do to the fifth villain?"

Hizashi pulled a face. "I didn't kill him, unfortunately. I needed him alive to deliver a message. I _may _have rendered him deaf in one ear though."

"Dangerous Quirk and a dangerous mind," summarised Eraserhead with a hefty sigh. "I'm not putting the café in jeopardy. Come into work, or I'm taking you to prison."

"Fine," he relinquished unhappily, "but I'm making you breakfast in the morning, and you're going to eat actual food for lunch." Aizawa grunted in agreement and they headed for the bedroom. Hizashi changed into his pyjamas and lent some spare pants to the guest, although he refuted a shirt.

Since he'd grabbed his left hearing-aid he'd be spending his night on his right side, but unfortunately when they went into bed, that meant he'd spend the night facing the hero, and Aizawa didn't roll over. As soon as he hit the pillow, the hero was asleep.

He really_ was_ tired. Hizashi could've killed him in his sleep if…

Aizawa's damp hair fell against his face, outlining the scar beneath his right eye, and the villain couldn't pull his gaze from the sight. Hizashi brought his fingers to his own cheek and gently brushed the skin under his left eye, trying to imagine what it felt like to have that scar beneath his fingertips. How badly had it hurt? How much blood had stained that pale face? How close had he come to victory on his debut?

Although there was a decent amount of space between them, Hizashi could feel the hero's heat seep into the fresh blanket. The room still smelt of sex, coffee and cologne. He exhaled heavily as he wedged several pillows beneath his sides, to stop himself rolling over and breaking his hearing-aid during the night, and he finished by turning the volume as high as possible.

He'd always had trouble sleeping. If he snored, he could potentially bring down a building. Maybe that was why he'd tried so hard to mess with the barista's sleep pattern – he knew what it was like to live on so little sleep that it could destroy a mind. A fear of losing control had led to a fear of sleep, a coffee addiction, and insomnia.

Why did he never visit the same coffee shop twice?

Many had asked him over the years and he'd given them any answer one could imagine – it made each day different, it stopped him falling into routine, it encouraged him to explore the city, it helped smaller businesses stay afloat.

The real reason?

Because it was annoying.

It was annoying to never have baristas know his favourite, annoying to go out of his way to fuel his addiction, to make sure no one in their right mind would want anything more to do with him beyond sex or a DJing gig. He lived a busy life, made only busier by the self-inflicted hassle, and he deserved the unnecessary annoyance.

Hizashi Yamada was a broken man with a broken Quirk, who built machines to break others.

And yet there was Aizawa, unafraid, willing to share a bed with the man who wanted to destroy him. There was a fine line between trust and idiocy.

_I still like you, despite … everything._

Hizashi sighed and closed his eyes as the scent of them together filled his senses. Why'd the hero go and say sappy things like that? He was going to be awake for hours, as per usual, thinking about…

It was warm. So nice and warm. The sound of Aizawa's quiet breathing and steady heartbeat were all he could hear through his sensitive hearing-aid.

Whether he wanted to or not, Hizashi Yamada fell asleep in moments.

-x-

Aizawa woke to music. At first he was irritated, imagining some tourist in a nearby pod, but when he tried to check the time on his phone his hand found nothing. He opened his eyes, taken momentarily aback by how large his capsule seemed, yet the phantasm didn't disappear.

The music continued. He sat up to find himself alone in a large bed, the room mostly dark with the door slightly ajar so artificial light edged inside. Everything from the previous day returned to him and when he checked the time on the digital clock, he was surprised to find it was just after 5am.

He pulled himself out of bed and glanced out the door, only to be greeted by a strange display. A small speaker sat on the kitchen counter, playing some old timey music. The sound of whisking joined it, and the smell of something appetizing didn't go unnoticed. Hizashi had mentioned breakfast, but the hero had imagined a bowl of cereal at the most.

The sound on the speaker gave way to singing in English, and he realised the voice from it was echoed by the blond as he happily swayed his hips. _"We're all alone, no chaperon can get our number, the world's in slumber! Let's misbehave~" _The voice was different to Hizashi's, but Aizawa quickly reminded himself about his Quirk: he'd once mimicked Nemuri's voice too. Hizashi continued to sway happily, like he was alone, as he poured whatever he'd been whisking into a small pan. The song continued. _"There's something wild about you, child, that's so contagious! Let's be outrageous, let's misbehave!"_

Aizawa exited the bedroom and Hizashi heard him, even over the noise. He stopped singing, but the voice on the speaker continued quietly without him.

"I think," said Eraserhead over the music, "we should talk about your Quirk."

"Breakfast first. I'll tell you everything about it while we eat. I'm nearly done, but if you want to be useful you can set the table." Hizashi gestured vaguely at a cupboard and when Shouta opened it, it was full of plates. The blond returned to dancing rhythmically to the song, despite his presence, and soon his voice resumed its mimicry. _"They say the Spring means just one thing to little lovebirds, we're not above birds. Let's misbehave~!"_

It almost felt wrong to see Present Mic like this. A villain, singing and dancing while they cooked him breakfast – Aizawa felt like he was intruding on something private and personal. He offered up the plates and watched as Hizashi served them a full breakfast of green tea, grilled fish, miso soup, rice, sliced pickles and Japanese omelettes. It smelled enticing, a far leap beyond his tepid jelly pack breakfast. For a moment he wondered if anything was poisoned, but then he recalled the blond's bruised ego and his desire to 'help' the man.

In the eyes of the villain, this act was akin to fattening an animal for slaughter.

A cold edge tainted the scene. Hizashi happily sung in English, _"If you'd be just so sweet and only meet your fate, Dear, 'twould be the great event of 1928, Dear~!" _He served up the food and smiled almost sinisterly as he said the final line with a wink: _"Let's misbehave."_

Like an animal for slaughter. Still, Aizawa wasn't perturbed. If Hizashi wanted to fight then Eraserhead would fight, but until that happened, he planned to do all in his power to find a compromise. Afterall, Aizawa had woken to a nice house, to a homecooked breakfast, and to the man he adored, singing and dancing around the kitchen like he was the coolest man alive.

He wanted every future morning to be this perfect.


	16. Vienna

Chapter Sixteen

Vienna

The music was turned off as breakfast began. "Tell me about your Quirk," said Aizawa as he offered the blond a pair of chopsticks. "Don't lie – I need to know what you're capable of."

Hizashi stirred his cup of miso with his chopsticks, clearly deciding where to begin. "My Quirk is called Voice and, unlike most, I was born with it. Firstly, I can change the volume of my voice, like you can on a speaker, meaning I can be as quiet or as loud as I want. My sound waves create their own force, if loud enough. I can amplify this with my Directional Speaker, but the main reason I use it is to direct the sound, or else it'll hurt me too. The speaker also makes things easier on my vocal cords. Without it, the only limit to my voice is my sense of self-preservation."

Aizawa picked a little at everything as he listened, but wasn't hugely surprised to find the blond was a great cook. Ignoring the part about him being a villain, Hizashi would've been an amazing catch. "Volume: check. What else?"

"Secondly, I can mimic voices, but only to a certain extent." He paused momentarily and when he spoke again his voice was Nemuri's. "I have to listen to a person speak or sing for at least a minute with my eyes closed. Of course, I can only mimic the _sound_ of their voice. Inflections, stresses and other natural habits I have to study or guess. Sorry about earlier, I built up my repertoire with singers and I can't help myself sometimes."

"Can you _not_ mimic Nemuri's voice?" he asked while crinkling his eyes. "It's jarring."

"Oh," Hizashi breathed, his voice suddenly even and mellifluous and **way **too familiar, "then how about this? I'm Shouta, and I think it's weird to own _one_ hairbrush, let alone four."

"Owning one would be logical. Owning _four_ is redundant."

Hizashi still mimicked his voice as he said, "I also lived in a Capsule Hotel for ten years. It was cheap, and logical, and kept me from adopting twenty cats."

"…Okay, you have a talent."

The blond grinned devilishly and slipped back to his normal voice. "In all seriousness, I was better at copying you than Nemuri, as I'd had a lot more experience with your voice."

"Mimicry: check."

"Thirdly, echolocation, but only with my hearing-aids in. Fourth, I can disturb some electronics by whistling at certain frequencies, but I have to turn my hearing-aids off to do it." He tilted his head as he tried to think of anything he'd missed. "Other than that, it's just little things like throwing my voice and making things vibrate."

"So, you're a villainous ventriloquist."

At first Hizashi looked surprised, then almost offended, and then he erupted into unexpected laughter. The sound echoed around the room, roused the cat from her slumber, and lightly shook the table. Boots took the cue to run over to her empty food bowl and look at them expectantly. "You're funny, Shouta."

"You're a good cook."

Hizashi grinned mischievously at him, "I thought it was rare for you to give out compliments."

"Then you're not bad." He shrugged and finished his meal. "I'll clean up."

The blond shook his head as he collected their plates. "Get ready for work. That's everything about my Quirk, so let's talk about yours. You can stop other Quirks until you blink. Your hair floats and your pupils turn red and you look sexy as hell when you do it. Anything I miss?"

"It gives me serious dry-eye," he murmured as he sorted through his possessions for his uniform. "Busy tonight?"

"You got patrol?"

"No."

"Then why do you ask?"

Aizawa changed his clothes right there without even a hint of modesty or concern – the man had used changerooms for ten years. "Our second date."

There was a sudden clatter as the villain dropped the cutlery into the sink and spun around to stare at him, probably catching a good look at his scarred body in the process. "Wait, you want to go on a _second _date?"

"Of course."

"But I'm going to kill you!"

Aizawa shrugged, now dressed, and tied up his messy hair. "I told you I liked you, Hizashi. I wouldn't have slept with you if I didn't. If we fight, there will only be two options: I die and you become the feared villain Present Mic, or I beat you and you're jailed for the rest of your life. If you want to fight, then I'll fight, but I'd prefer a third option."

"A third option?"

Aizawa nodded and attached his nametag, ready for another day of customer service. "We don't fight. We go on more dates. Some will be disasters, but most will be good. You'll make bad jokes, I'll pretend they're not funny – which they're not, just so you know." He closed his eyes, trying to think of what else he could possibly say, but there were so many things he wanted to do with Hizashi Yamada it was difficult to list them like this. "We'll watch bad CGI movies on the couch with Boots, and twice a week I'll listen to the coolest man alive, knowing I'll get to go home to him. I'll stop working so much because of that, and we'd find another way for you to do what you love. I'll eventually guess your favourite coffee and make it for you every morning, and every night we'll sleep in the same bed."

He opened his eyes and looked at Hizashi Yamada: at his blond hair wrangled in a messy bun, his thickly framed glasses that could've inspired crime scenes, his clothes that were so colourful they made Aizawa's eyes literally sore. Those emerald eyes stared at him in shock, his supple lips slightly parted and Shouta's chest ached at the miraculous sight of him.

"I'll take care of you, Hizashi Yamada, and you'll take care of me. That's the option I prefer."

-o-

Eraserhead's face was so soft when he said it, like he genuinely thought a third option existed. Hizashi wasn't stupid enough to believe it.

Either he became a great villain or he spent his life in prison. There was no third option where they lived some sweet little domestic life, no matter how nice it sounded. This was just psychological warfare, intended to make Present Mic back down so he would be arrested quietly. No hero would leave him loose, especially not one as good as Eraserhead.

"I get it," Hizashi said quietly as he turned back to the dishes. "You think I'll give up."

"I'm counting on it," he admitted. "Going to turn me down?"

"No," he said as he put the dishes down to dry. "Social interaction is a healthy part of life. If I want you at your best, then-"

He was cut off by a weight on his shoulder and, when he turned his head, he came face to face with Aizawa. His body was pressed against his back, warm and encapsulating. "If that's the excuse you have to make, I won't stop you, but how about we just have a nice night together? You promised to make me ramen."

Hizashi exhaled heavily, but felt heat rise in his face. "Fine, we'll go on a date, and I'll make you the best ramen you've ever had. Happy?"

Aizawa grunted noncommittedly and pulled away. Hizashi instantly spun on his heel and pulled the man into an unexpected kiss. Even though it was unanticipated, the hero was perfectly happy to push him against the counter and return the kiss with restrained desire. Successfully distracted, Hizashi pulled a tiny disc from his back pocket and ran his hands over Aizawa's uniform.

He attached the small chip to the underside of the barista's shirt collar and pulled away with his arms still wrapped around his neck. "But I'll want dessert," he eagerly purred. "If you're not too tired."

Aizawa shrugged and pulled away so the blond could feed his cat, and then they were out the door, headed for the Extroverted Hermit.

-x-

Shouta Aizawa might've been a walking disaster, but he wasn't stupid by any means, especially now he knew what game Hizashi was playing. The blond had a motive behind every action, and he'd already assumed the worst – the man had attached something to him. A microphone, he reasoned, or a GPS locater… Knowing Hizashi it was probably both, although he didn't try to find it.

The shift at the Extroverted Hermit kept him busy anyway. Hizashi typed away on his laptop nefariously, yet whenever Aizawa glimpsed the screen he was harmlessly putting together playlists for his show. When it was nearing his lunchbreak, the barista made up a Vienna coffee for him and brought it to the booth.

"You okay?" Aizawa asked as he set it down, but Hizashi just nodded absentmindedly without glancing away from the screen. He only seemed to notice him when he moved the coffee a little closer.

Hizashi looked up in surprise but relaxed at the sight of him. "Sorry, was a bit too focused." He sipped the coffee and smiled a little. "It's nice, thanks. Here," he offered some cash.

"It's on the house," he said quietly, but the blond still shoved the money into his hand, along with his loyalty card.

"It's not my tenth visit yet," Hizashi said with a smug grin. "_Soon_ you can give me one on the house."

Before he could say anything, Eraserhead was interrupted by the bell ringing. "Shouta!" called a familiar voice, and when he turned he was amazed to see Nemuri headed straight for them. "Let's…" She paused at the sight of Hizashi, and a fire lit in her eyes. "Oh! Everything's okay?"

Aizawa sighed and moved away from the booth. He put the money in the register and gave his villain another loyalty stamp while he dealt with the R-Rated Hero. "Why're you here?"

She kept glancing at the blond, even as she said, "Ah, you texted me?"

"I did?"

"Were you sleep texting or something?" She pulled out her phone to show him proof, and there it was.

_If you're free, you should visit the café today. _The timestamp was around 5am. He glanced accusingly at Hizashi, who just shot him back a pleased smile. So that was why he'd attached a microphone…

"But I was going to come in anyway," Nemuri admitted. "You sounded down on the phone, and you even had someone else take your 'nightshift', so I wanted to check up on you, but maybe I was wrong to worry… That's him, right? Wow he's cute, but I never would've guessed he was your type."

Eraserhead took her by the arm and gestured for the storeroom, "Let's talk in private." He turned back to Hizashi, "We'll be right back."

The blond just smiled and nodded. Of course, he wasn't aware that Aizawa knew about the microphone. Nemuri let herself be dragged into the storeroom, and he quickly grabbed a pen and book of order slips before ducking inside. "Wow Shouta, you trying to get him all hot and jealous? I'll play no part in an affair, but if you want me to pretend-"

"No," he said immediately as he shut the door and scribbled on the pad. "Everything's okay. I went on a date."

Before she responded, he showed her what he'd written: _There's a listening device on me. Play along._

She didn't even pause. "You went on a _date_? My _Shouta _went on a **_date_**! I'm so proud of you! With who?" Nemuri leaned forward and silently tapped the word 'listening' as she asked the last question.

"The eyesore," he confirmed and wrote something else down. "We went out for ramen." Aizawa showed her his second note: _Don't verbally react to anything I write. He's __smart__._

She laughed incredulously, "Where? Don't leave me hanging! You should've told me sooner! I give great advice!"

"The hotel," he said as he wrote down the bombshell: _Eyesore is Present Mic._

Her eyes widened, but nothing showed in her voice. "The hotel? You took your boyfriend on a date to that _hotel_? What did you do? Did you share a pod? Did you have your wicked way with each other's bodies?"

"We ate ramen." Next note: _We have a temp truce. Another villain wants me dead. _"From the vending machine." _However, once we've defeated them, Mic will try to kill me._

She shoved the note down for a moment. "You took your first date to a **_VENDING MACHINE_**_?"_ Her expression contorted. "Shouta! How could you? You're_**hopeless**_!"

He rolled his eyes, but he'd known she'd skin him alive for that, whether his date was a murderous villain or not. "It was something I always enjoyed, so I thought he'd enjoy it too." Aizawa wrote something else down. "I liked having him there – it was nice."

He leaned forward and put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it firmly as he showed her the note.

_I won't let him kill me, but if he succeeds, stop him._

She looked taken aback, but Nemuri was good at what she did. "At least tell me you got lucky!" Her eyes stuck to the last phrase of his note and he quickly added to it.

_He can't be allowed to become a top villain – __too dangerous__. Stop him, arrest him, do whatever it takes, but __don't hurt him._

"Maybe I did get lucky," he said quietly. "Lucky for him to take a chance with me."

"When did you get so sappy?" She took his pen and wrote a single word on the paper: _Why?_

"I guess he's rubbing off on me," he murmured and wrote down those three words that would let Nemuri know just how desperately he needed the man to live, even if he didn't.

_I love him._

She stared. As he watched, her eyes grew glassy. Tears steaked down her face, for she understood how badly her friend had fallen for his enemy. She knew how impossible it would be for Eraserhead and Present Mic to live a normal, happy life, yet she also knew how badly Shouta _deserved_ one.

"Don't cry," he said softly. "I'm not good with things like that."

Nemuri shook her head and pulled him into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry," she whispered, keeping the sorrow from her voice, "I'm just so _happy_ for you."


	17. Iced Tea

Chapter Seventeen

Iced Tea

Hizashi listened quietly to the conversation play out over his headphones, rolling his eyes at the waterworks. They were good, but they hadn't accounted for the sensitivity of the microphone. Although Nemuri's sudden scream of VENDING MACHINE had nearly taken what little hearing he still clung to, he could hear the light scrape of pen against paper, although he was unaware of _what_ they were writing. Despite the annoyance, the blond couldn't help but smile: his hero was smart.

He removed his headphones just as the door to the storeroom opened and Nemuri beelined for his booth. "You must be Hizashi!" she said cheerily, and he had to respect her too: the woman hid her emotions well. Now he just had to figure out who she could be, an easier task now he'd seen what she looked like. It had been a risky move, inviting her there, but if Aizawa was going to turn to anyone for support or backup, it'd be her. "My poor boy is quite taken with you!"

Shouta left the storeroom and shot them a quick disapproving look before he went to make the woman a drink. Nemuri slid into the booth beside him, but thankfully he'd closed the listening program before she'd seen it. "Must be my good looks," he said with a grin, "but then again I might be quite taken with him as well. It's nice to meet you."

She shook his hand and happily smiled. "Nemuri." The woman was certainly beautiful, to the extent he might've felt jealous had Aizawa been anyone else. So, time to come up with some educated assumptions: Nemuri knew he was Present Mic, she knew he planned to kill Aizawa, and somehow he'd convinced her not to arrest him on the spot. Something had made her cry, but even he wasn't sure what could've triggered such a reaction. He made up a mental profile of her, detailing her physical characteristics so he could figure out her hero identity when he got the chance.

"I actually wanted to talk with you," he said with a friendly smile. "Let's get down to brass-tacks: Shouta is a walking disaster."

She _snorted_. "Yeah, he's my poor gay walking disaster. He's been that way since I first met him."

"Well, I'm admittedly a bit of a gay disaster myself, but can we both agree he needs to get his life together? He's a _mess_."

She was taken aback, but then an enthusiastic grin spread across her lips. "You are_ exactly_ right! Did you know he lives in a Capsule Hotel?"

He pulled a face. "Ack, I know! They don't even have private changerooms! I'd _die. _Well, I have some good news for you, hun, cause I managed to convince that poor, poor idiot to move in with me!" Hizashi waved his hands, "I _know _we're moving _way _too fast, but I couldn't just let him live like _that_."

Her eyes widened in amazement. "How'd you convince him? I've been trying to get him to move in with me for _years_!"

"I have a cat."

"Oh, that'd do it." She smacked him on the back, encouragingly. "So, what're you planning to do to my poor boy?" At first he thought she was referring to his villainous scheme, but then she asked, "You going to rock his world? Take him on dates? Make him an honest man? Strip him naked and ride him into the sunset?" He could almost see the steam coming from her nostrils. Maybe she wasn't really acting… "You two done the deed yet?"

Hizashi beamed mischievously. "Maybe~"

Her face grew red and she slammed her hands on the table. "Oh my gosh! Tell me! Tell me _everything_! I. Need. DETAILS!"

"We're both consenting adults," said the even voice of Aizawa as he brought Nemuri an iced tea, his face ever impassive. "There isn't much more you need to know."

"Who was top?" she cried out, glancing ecstatically between them. "I need to know! You can't just leave me in suspense! This is the first time you've ever had a non-one-night-stand! A real friend would've taken pictures!"

Did this woman ever have anything else on her mind? Not that he could really blame her…

Aizawa glanced at him, as if to tell him to pay her no attention, but he returned to his work before anything was said.

Hizashi licked his lips as he watched him walk away. They had a date that night, so… "He topped," he answered honestly, feeling his chest thump at the memory. "Have you ever seen him naked? He doesn't look like much with those clothes on but he is _ripped. _Built like a bridge! I don't know how he got so good, but he's _good_." God, he was getting himself worked up just by talking about it, and the feeling seemed contagious.

Her cheeks were red, her eyes almost crazed. "Oh, you're getting me _excited_! So passionate! Tell me more!"

Getting her to like him was going to be easy.

-x-

Nemuri left before his shift ended, apparently Hizashi's new best friend. While externally she appeared satisfied, Aizawa could see the confliction that weighed on her shoulders. Maybe she'd seen the little things that had ensnared Aizawa - the way Hizashi smiled, his tongue-in-cheek humour, the way he acted like an idiot when he was always calculating three steps ahead. No doubt he'd been trying hard to earn Nemuri's friendship, and it had worked, but Shouta knew if it came to it that wouldn't sway her.

He didn't plan to lose to his lover, but Shouta wasn't an idiot. If he died, she was his backup plan and she wouldn't hesitate with Hizashi like he did.

Present Mic could not be allowed to become a true villain. Aizawa wasn't heroic, but he was still a hero. If he died, Present Mic would become a near unstoppable force that would terrorise the world. The only thing that had kept him back was his odd opposition to using his Quirk and his sonic Bat weapons together. Nemuri would have to stop him, no matter what, but the thought of Hizashi lying beaten to a bloody pulp by someone else made his stomach clench.

Of course, if they were fighting, Eraserhead wouldn't hold back, but he felt a strong aversion to the thought of anyone _else_ hurting the man he loved. Maybe the blond's twisted possessiveness was contagious. At least she'd use her somnambulist Quirk to knock him out without hurting him.

"I'll finish closing up," offered his horned co-worker with a happy smile. "You and your friend can go."

"Thank you." Aizawa went to Hizashi's booth. The man was still typing away at his computer, although the screen showed some news interview footage he couldn't quite make out. "You ready for our second date?"

Hizashi closed his computer with a yawn. "You need to work shorter shifts," he said as he got up and put an arm around his neck. "So, we going to my place so you can have a shower and get changed?"

"No. Let's just start our date now."

Aizawa felt a slight tug at his collar and he finally knew where the microphone had been located as Hizashi removed it. "But you're still in your uniform," said the blond as he pulled away and collected his laptop.

He pulled off his hat and apron and stashed them below the counter for the next day. "There, besides I have an idea about what to do first."

Hizashi offered him a toothy grin. "You planning to take me to a vending machine again?"

"You'll see. Want me to carry that?" He gestured to the laptop, but the blond shook his head and stared at it, as if deciding he didn't really want to bring it with them, so he stored it beneath the counter with the barista's things. Aizawa took his hand in his own. "Let's go."

-x-

Hizashi was pleased when they walked in the opposite direction to the hotel, although now he had no clue what the hero had in mind for their second date. Maybe the man had researched, meaning it would be something typical. He imagined a movie, a romantic stroll, and maybe a stop off at an ice-cream parlour, but he was surprised when Aizawa led him to a department store.

He glanced at the clothes, confused, and offered the man a questioning expression. Aizawa rubbed the back of his head, looking … apprehensive. "I thought it would be interesting if … we picked outfits for each other."

His mouth dropped. _That _was unexpected. "So I buy you an outfit and you buy me one?"

"Yes, and we have to wear the outfits tonight."

Hizashi grinned a wicked grin. "You know you're going to regret this."

He just shrugged and finally released his hand. "Meet back here in fifteen minutes."

"Not much time to decide," sighed the blond, "but I'll find the perfect thing." They both disappeared amongst the clothing racks. Man, what an odd date idea. Had Nemuri suggested it?

As he picked out an outfit, estimating the man's clothing size, he couldn't stop himself from grinning. Okay, this was going to be fun…

Time flew by and they went to separate registers to pay. He wondered what the man had picked out for him, but knowing Aizawa it would be something loose and simple and plain, like what the barista typically wore.

As soon as they were done, they swapped bags and went to separate bathrooms to get changed, and when Hizashi pulled his outfit out he froze.

Damn. He was going to **_murder _**that hero.

-o-

Aizawa finished changing first and waited outside the bathroom for the blond to finish up. He'd predicted a colourful outfit with frills and bows, something uncomfortable, and although the pants _were _uncomfortable, he hadn't expected this. Hizashi had dressed him in jeans, a white shirt, a leather jacket and a beanie, making him look more like a biker than a barista. He'd expected something colourful or flashy, but instead he'd dressed Aizawa up as something intimidating.

He was more surprised to see Hizashi approaching in the outfit he'd chosen. He hadn't expected him to _actually_ wear it.

Hizashi strolled confidently through the shopping centre, turning a few heads, and Aizawa could've fallen for him a second time for that alone.

He wore a dress: a _pink _dress, with black cats patterned across its surface. Not only that but a headband with cat ears, and fingerless paw gloves. He'd been willing to have the blond rebuff it and would've instantly traded it for something different (he'd seen a cute cat sweater the blond would've looked great in), yet there he was and he looked _stunning._

"You have weird taste," said the blond with a scathing look, although he was smiling. "I thought you were gay. Always had a crossdressing fantasy?"

Aizawa felt the corners of his mouth twitch, and he just couldn't stop it this time. Eraserhead erupted with laughter. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed like this, but it must've been contagious for the blond instantly joined in. Vibrations ruffled through his body from Hizashi's Quirk, but the waves were harmless. "I'll get you something else."

"You kidding?" Hizashi swayed the ends of the dress and Aizawa was caught off-guard when the blond shifted his voice to mimic a female one. "I look great! Just don't expect me to ever do it ever again, nya~" Shouta snickered and ran a hand through his long blond hair, and Hizashi seemed content. "Let me get a look at you, handsome stranger."

The barista stepped away and tugged at his jacket. "Jeans are uncomfortable."

"You look like you're about to shiv a guy," he said in his normal voice. Hizashi looked him up and down, unsatisfied. "But you're missing something." He eyed the nearby shops and dashed towards one before Aizawa could even question it. After a few minutes he came running back with a little jewellery case. "Here."

Aizawa took it and tilted his head. "Aren't you supposed to get down on one knee?"

"Just open it, you piece of stationary." He opened it and was pleasantly surprised to find a plain silver necklace. The only ornament on it was a flat coin with a 'H' carved into the front.

"Why a 'H'?"

"'H' for 'Hero'."

"Not 'H' for 'Hizashi'?"

"'H' for 'How dare you see right through my poor decision making'. They didn't have an 'S' or an 'A'." Before he could get a better look at it, Hizashi swiped it from the box and proceeded to clip it around the hero's neck. "If anyone asks, just say you're a real big fan of Hentai."

"I think I'd rather give away my hero identity…"

"There!" He pulled away. "Outfit is complete."

"Is it a tracker?"

"I'm good, but not _that _good."

Aizawa stared down at it, completely at a loss. "You're not upset about the dress?"

Hizashi winked and offered him a seductive smile. "Easier access for tonight. So, hotshot, you've got me in a dress. Where're you going to take me?"

The hero opened his mouth, paused, and frowned at the ground. Damn, he hadn't planned this far ahead…

He was about to relinquish the decision to the blond, since he always had better ideas about how dates were _supposed _to go, but then he looked at Hizashi. He saw beyond the dress, beyond the glasses and looked deep into those emerald eyes, and he recalled something Hizashi had once said. Inspiration struck. Aizawa took his hand in his own. "I know just the place."

-x-

Hizashi wasn't expecting anything thoughtful, really. The clothing change had been a fun idea, if not the most appealing, but romance and courting just weren't Aizawa's forte. That's why he was so undeniably shocked one train ride later when they stood outside the most thoughtful location he could've imagined.

Shouta Aizawa had taken him to the Museum.

"You said you were a nerd," quietly justified Aizawa upon noticing his astonished expression. "I thought you'd enjoy this."

"I mean, I _would, _but there's one issue, bright light." He pointed at the dark building. "It's closed." So close yet so far… Guess it would be up to Hizashi to save this. Now, where could he recommend…

"I know." Aizawa took his hand again and pulled him towards the dark building. "We're breaking in."


	18. Soft Drink

Chapter Eighteen

Soft Drink

"What?" yelled the villain, nearly activating his Quirk in his shock.

"We're breaking in," repeated the hero, as if it were nothing.

"Why?"

"For our date. It's a middle ground between our two lifestyles."

"_Breaking_ into a _museum_ is a _very _villain thing to do, Shouta!"

Aizawa rolled his shoulders but never stopped pulling him towards the dark building. "We're breaking in, yes, but we're not stealing anything. It'll be like we're visiting during the day, just at night. Besides, you had no trouble with the café's closing hours on your first visit."

"You got upset when I did that! What about the security cameras?"

"You said your Quirk can mess with certain electronics. Does it affect cameras?"

"Yes, but-"

"I know you tampered with the footage at the hotel too, so even if we do appear on camera, you can edit it so they won't have any evidence."

"Shouta, you're-"

"We'd both be able to slip past security guards easily."

"You're not-"

"And we're already in disguise."

Hizashi grounded his feet and Aizawa finally stopped to look at him. His heart was hammering away in his chest. He stared up at the hero: he was being completely serious about this. Hizashi instantly deflated. "Fuck, I've never been more attracted to you."

He pulled Eraserhead into a fierce kiss that was instantly returned. When they pulled away, Eraserhead led him into the museum gardens and ducked behind a finely trimmed hedge, hiding the bags with their clothes in where they couldn't be seen. "How does your Quirk work on cameras?"

"If I whistle at certain frequencies it freezes the connection feed. With the sort of tech they'd use at a museum, I'd say we'd have a fifteen minute window per whistle."

"Fifteen minutes per area okay with you?"

"Definitely. I have a feeling I'll be the one hurrying us through so we can get back to my place."

"For ramen?"

"Among other things…" Hizashi glanced at the building, "One moment." He closed his eyes, adjusted his hearing-aids and made soft clicking sounds with his mouth. It bounced around the garden and off the thick walls of the buildings. Eventually he stopped and turned to Aizawa. "There's a keypad security door with two cameras around it. I'll have to turn off my hearing-aids, so you'll be my ears while… What's wrong?"

Aizawa was staring at him. He glanced away, almost awkwardly, and scratched the back of his head, "Nothing." Was he blushing?

Hizashi rolled his eyes and turned both devices off. The world went muffled and he felt the vibration of his whistle more than the sound. Once he was sure the cameras were temporarily fried, he stopped and flicked his hearing-aids back on. "Let's go. There's a patrol, but they're headed in the opposite direction."

Aizawa nodded and took him by the hand as they raced through the night. The blond had to hitch up his dress to keep pace with the hero, but once they were in front of the door it was time for him to show off as he pulled out a burner phone. The keypad didn't have any access points, but he had other ways of getting through something so simple. He used the torch on the phone and examined the numbers in the harsh light. He could make out fingerprints on four of the buttons: 0, 1, 2, 9.

"Check out my hacking skills," he whispered as he typed in the combination '2019'. A green light appeared and a click signified the door unlocking. Hizashi expected Aizawa to question how he'd managed it without some fancy device, but he was silent. Still, the blond wasn't one to let his genius slip by unnoticed. "You can determine a lot by examining fingerprints. Only four buttons had prints on and the natural oil on the skin is rubbed off with the more buttons they press. Number two had the most distinct prints while nine had the least. Smart, right?"

"The security code was literally the current year."

"Yes, but I proved that."

"Why haven't I arrested you yet?" It was impossible to tell if it was a joke or a serious epiphany.

"Cause I look darn good in a dress."

"How many cameras inside?"

"I can't tell until I use my echolocation with the door open, but that shouldn't be enough to set off any alarms, especially since it's the security entrance. Hold it open for me." Aizawa complied, opening the door just a crack while Hizashi repeated his echolocation trick and followed it with his distortion whistle. Once complete, Eraserhead opened the door for him completely, ever the gentleman, and shut it behind them.

They'd successfully broken in.

For a moment Hizashi wondered if this was all some strange trick to ambush him, but he forced the suspicion down. Until Giran was out the picture, Aizawa couldn't risk losing his personal bodyguard. Maybe he was using this as an excuse to study Hizashi's Quirk in action, and that idea didn't seem too farfetched. It would mean a fairer fight, so he had no reason to be against that.

Hizashi grabbed a map from the rack and studied it in the light of a vending machine that dispensed snacks and soft drink. "Where do you wanna look first, cutie? Oh, they have an exhibit on All-Might, and one on Ancient Egypt." Aizawa grunted noncommittedly and the villain grinned. "You know, the Ancient Egyptians loved cats…"

"…I think we should check it out. It sounds informative."

Hizashi laughed and took him by the arm, allowing his dress to sway with his movements. "To get there we have to see the prehistoric, the astronomy and the geology sections first." He ran his finger over the map to devise the perfect route without requiring them to re-enter any room. "It'll be easier if we don't interrupt cameras more than once."

One more round of echolocation pinpointed the whereabouts of the patrolling guards but, although they'd have to keep an ear out, they wouldn't pose any issue. First up were the dinosaurs.

-o-

Hizashi Yamada was so incredible it hurt.

Shouta couldn't keep himself from imagining a world where he'd become a hero instead of a villain, where he'd chosen to help rather than harm. He could've done a lot of good in the world if he'd just put his mind to it, yet he was hellbent on destruction.

The system had failed him, and it would soon regret it.

The whistling hurt his ears from simple proximity, but he happily bore the discomfort to act as his lookout in his state of temporary vulnerability. Of course he was studying Hizashi's Quirk, but that hadn't been the reason he'd taken him there to begin with. How was he supposed to know the museum closed at 6pm? He'd almost decided on some other activity, like a movie (with plenty of CGI), but Hizashi's expression had been so pleasantly surprised, he hadn't wanted to disappoint him.

Yes, they were technically breaking the law, but it was free to visit anyway, and he'd come back in a few days to leave a donation. He'd keep a constant watch on Hizashi, although stealing from a museum wasn't exactly the villain's style (as proficient as he seemed to be at it). No one would get hurt, and he'd get to see Hizashi smile.

Besides, if he showed Present Mic he was willing to occasionally find a grey area, it would incentivise the villain to occasionally do the same.

"Look at this one," Present Mic said eagerly as he raced to a large skeletal arm. He used the torchlight from his phone to read the informative plaque beneath it. "Apparently this is all they found of it, but the size means it must've been huge!" He turned to Aizawa like an excited child and it was difficult to not be taken in by the sight of him geeking out. "Oh, and this one over here is a model of a Dunkleosteus! It's an extinct fish that could grow up to seven metres long! Look at the teeth!" He excitedly held up his hand and compared it to the size of the recreated chompers.

Aizawa glanced over the skeletons and models, but the only thing in the room that captivated his interest was living and breathing and grabbing his arm to drag him to the next pile of bones. This area had a bunch of humanoid skulls, some real and some fake, detailing human evolution.

"It's you," Aizawa said as he pointed to a Neanderthal skull.

Hizashi stared at it thoughtfully. "I guess that proves my time machine will be a success."

"Quite an honour to end up in a museum."

"Yeah, to have kids pointing at you. Sounds like the dream."

Even he was struggling not to smile at Hizashi's personality shift. How could this man be the same one who'd threatened to burn the world only the previous night?

Soon they were looking at replicas of the planets while Hizashi explained the differences between the hydrosphere, the lithosphere, the asthenosphere and the atmosphere. Aizawa gave up trying to understand and just focused on the sound of his voice. It always served to calm him, just like another voice from his youth. The thought of _that _forgotten voice, however, made Shouta wince. Now wasn't the time to think of _him._

Before they moved onto the next room, Hizashi sent off another wave of echolocation and pinpointed a nearing guard. They decided to hide in a small attached room with a blackout curtain draped across its entrance. Inside was a display of gems and rocks with an ultraviolet light, although it was now completely dark inside.

They could only hope the guard wouldn't check the small room, or else they'd have no where else to hide. Aizawa pressed his date into the dark corner but was distracted when Hizashi kissed at his neck. He tried to shoot him a disapproving look, but before he knew what was happening they were making out. They only stopped when the sound of footfalls interrupted their senses, and the gaze of a flashlight swept over the curtain. The duo held their breaths as the nightguard wandered through the geology section.

He was probably just as unimpressed by the rocks at Shouta was, for he didn't stick around for long and hadn't felt the need to check out the small room beyond the curtain. His footsteps grew further and further away and were soon gone. Hizashi pulled Eraserhead into another criminal kiss, but they were back out in moments so they could continue into the Ancient Egyptian section.

"Look here," Hizashi pointed through a glass case, "this here is a mummified cat."

Aizawa went to his side and stared at the unusual bundle of tightly bound ribbon and bandages and leather that looked nothing like a cat. "Poor dear."

"Come on, it was a cat in_ Ancient Egypt_. It was probably more pampered than Boots before it passed away!"

"Poor Boots."

The blond rolled his eyes and, to his surprise, his expression suddenly softened. "Doesn't it make you feel small?" His voice sounded distant. Aizawa replied with a questioning hum, and Hizashi exhaled as he turned to look at the room's centrepiece – an empty sarcophagus. For a moment he expected the villain to say something profound, but the silence stretched by.

"Hizashi?"

The blond looked back at him, as if startled, and the sadness disappeared beneath a forced grin. "Forget it." Before Aizawa could say anything, Hizashi was already regaling him with information about ancient felines, and the moment was quickly forgotten. They spent far longer talking about cats than bones and spheres and rocks.

Their time in the room inevitably ran out, however, and soon they were onto the next exhibit: a butterfly house. It was humid inside, but was rather pleasant, especially with all the greenery. There were apparently no cameras in the exhibit and the duo took the opportunity to sit on a small bench and relax.

"Gross, I hate bugs," said Hizashi with a grimace. "If one touches me, I'll die."

"They're asleep."

"How do you know? Are you a butterfly expert?"

"Just someone who really likes sleep."

"How can you like sleep, Shouta? You _barely _sleep."

He shrugged, "Just because I don't do it a lot doesn't mean I don't like it."

Hizashi rolled his emerald eyes and pulled off his cat-eared headband to fiddle with it. "Well, let's hope they're asleep."

"I'll protect you if they're not."

"You better…"

Hizashi leaned his head against his shoulder, and the two just sat there for a time, drinking in each other's company. The blond took to humming something gently, an English song Aizawa knew only vaguely – some deceptively bittersweet song about sunshine.

The villain's expression grew serious and the song suddenly stopped. "You're taking this too well."

"Am I?" Aizawa asked. "You're trying to get my life in order. Most people have ulterior motives when they're nice, so at least you're upfront with yours. Maybe I'm just tired and like having the company."

"Too tired to care about dying?"

"No," he said, and then quietly added, "I'm not going to die. I want to know more about this Giran though. You said you used to work for him, but you left. Why?"

The blond looked understandably conflicted. "You said I had a fan at Hero HQ. A young girl, right?"

He nodded. "She was thrilled to bits about discovering your malware. I think you'd like her. I bet her dream is to meet you one day."

Hizashi stared at the headband as he pulled and squeezed it between his fingers, as if deciding whether to say anything at all. He conceded. "I was building support-ware for illegal costumes. It was easy working through him. When the client didn't know what they wanted, Giran just told me about their Quirk and let me go wild with ideas. The pay was great too, somehow even better than working alone. I have good contacts, but you wouldn't believe how much money he could squeeze out of people." He stood up but didn't move too far from the bench. "But there's an issue when you don't know who you're selling to: _you don't know who you're selling to._ He wasn't just selling my tech to criminals, but to kids wanting to become _heroes_. Some thought if they just had the right support gear, they could succeed even with a busted Quirk. He knew how to twist their hope into desperation, and I unknowingly reaped the rewards."

Aizawa listened silently. There were times when Hizashi needed an opinion and times when he needed a pair of ears, and this 'conversation' was the latter.

"I was watching the news when I saw it: a busted speaker, one that I'd built. The kid's Quirk had been similar to mine, except it only activated when he sang. I'd pitched it for an adult male voice, not the unbroken voice of an eleven-year-old. I don't even know how someone that age could've gotten the money, but… There was my speaker … _his _speaker – in _pieces_." His voice sounded so distraught on that last word that Aizawa was on his feet before he'd even realised it.

The blond flinched when his hand touched his back. "Hizashi…"

The blond turned and rested his forehead against Shouta's shoulder, his face obscured by shadow. "It _killed _him. My tech _killed _a _kid_. I swear, Shouta, I _never _wanted that on my conscience. I left Giran's employment immediately and refused to make any more tech for him, or for anyone I suspected was working for him. I now know who I sell to, I do thorough background checks. I don't sell to _any _villain who has ever even _hurt_ kids, and I have a strict agreement that if they do then I'll never have anything to do with them again – no sales, no repairs, no maintenance. Nothing. I _promise._"

It explained a lot. No wonder he'd freaked out upon learning about Mei's obsession with his support-gear. This was it, the reason he had such an aversion to using tech when he was Present Mic. Maybe he only used his speaker in tribute to the kid he'd indirectly killed, although he could understand why Hizashi hadn't told him sooner: it was technically manslaughter.

He remembered once asking something like that: _Have you ever killed civilians?_

_Never intentionally._

Hizashi had told the truth, and Aizawa believed him about everything else he'd done in penance. It wasn't what Eraserhead would've done in such a situation, but they were two very different people. That honesty was the only reason he didn't change his mind about arresting him right then and there. Instead, Aizawa gripped his shoulders and tried to figure out what he could possibly say to the man he wanted desperately to save.

_You didn't know. _He'd willingly worked for a seedy man in a seedy business: Hizashi was smart enough to know there would be consequences.

_It's in the past. _It_ was_ in the past, and it sounded like Hizashi was adamant about it not being repeated. He hadn't done the _right _thing, but he'd at least done _something._ Guilt was persuasive.

_Give up being a villain._ _You can change._

…Maybe that wasn't as simple as it should've been.

Hizashi had blood on his hands, whether he'd put it there himself or not, and it wasn't that he was unwilling to change, but that he fully believed he couldn't.

No … maybe he _really _couldn't change.

The Trojan Bat was a sadistic man, with a desire for profit and a need to invent the most efficiently murderous weapons one could imagine: a dangerous mind.

Present Mic was a flashy persona, hellbent on destruction and infamy, to the extent of clear obsession: a dangerous Quirk.

Then there was Hizashi Yamada, a man caught between the two personas, gifted with a brilliant mind and an incredible Quirk, who'd never been offered a healthy outlet for either.

To call him a victim wasn't entirely true yet wasn't entirely wrong either. Words could no longer save him…

But maybe actions could.

Aizawa gently tilted Hizashi's head up so he could meet his gaze, but the hero couldn't say anything as he took a step back. Instead, he made several motions with his hands. Maybe he couldn't say the right words, but he could at least try to sign them:

_'I wish I'd met you sooner.'_

-o-

Hizashi didn't need the man to explain the meaning behind it. Despite all this crazy stuff he did, Shouta Aizawa was a hero – a great one - and the blond was someone who'd once desperately needed someone to save him. If they'd met sooner, maybe Eraserhead could've been that someone.

The blond closed the distance between them and cupped the hero's face in his hands. His stubble was rough against his palms as he examined him closely.

Shouta was _tired_. The lines under his eyes were less than they'd been only weeks ago. His skin was healthier, his gaze more focused and the redness of his eyes less as well. Even so, no amount of sleep would ever truly cure the exhaustion in that handsome face. Hizashi struggled with insomnia and caffeine addiction too, yet he knew he didn't look like that.

Shouta Aizawa needed saving.

Life was killing him more successfully than Hizashi ever could.

"We can have fun," the blond told him as he caressed his face, "but I'm still going to kill you. I won't hurt kids, but heroes are another matter entirely. You're my debut. Our fight is inevitable, my bridge, no matter how many times you make me smile."

Yes, Eraserhead looked so tired. "If you hurt a civilian, or a hero, or anyone other than me, Hizashi, I'm going to stop you."

"Don't be stupid. If I hurt you, I _want _you to _try _to stop me." Hizashi looked him over, and he found himself frowning. "Shouta … Why are you a hero?" It was an odd question. He'd never met a hero like Eraserhead before, one who worked entirely underground with no desire for fame or money.

He blinked his tired eyes, as if he were surprised, and Hizashi released his face so he could answer. "We'd just lost everything," quietly said the hero, "me and this other kid – a stranger. He needed someone to reach out and help him, a hero to tell him everything would be okay."

"Let me guess, a hero arrived and helped you both, and they inspired you to do the same." A classic backstory. Maybe if a hero had come to help him too, Hizashi wouldn't've-

"No one came." Hizashi was taken aback. Aizawa curled his fist. "We were forgotten in the chaos. I was the only person who could've told him everything would be okay, but I couldn't even reach out my hand, let alone say anything. I ran, and never saw him again. I've … always regretted that mistake. I was already in the UA General Studies, but after that night I did everything I could to reach the Hero Course. I vowed to help as many as I could, to make up for my first failure."

Such a hero mentality, to always regret a moment of selfishness.

Hizashi glanced away. "I know what it's like, to lose everything in a single night…"

A burning building lit his memories. He'd cried at the sight of flames, but he'd clamped his mouth so tightly he'd left bruises; anything to stop his dangerous Quirk from hurting more people. That night had sparked his decent into villainy. Unlike the boy from Aizawa's past, someone _had_ told Hizashi everything would be okay, but that person hadn't been a hero – it had been Giran. He'd found him, alone and desperate, the day after the fire, and had coerced the fifteen-year-old into his service.

"You could've easily gone the other way," Hizashi said quietly. "You'd just lost everything. You had a right to be angry at the world."

"The world had enough wrong with it," he answered dryly. "Besides, I didn't really lose everything. I'm still here."

So, that was the difference between them. When disaster had struck, Aizawa had turned that anger on himself, while Hizashi had turned it on the world. One disaster had made Eraserhead: another had made the Trojan Bat.

Hizashi exhaled, feeling suddenly drained, yet somehow relieved. "Hey Shouta, let's come back during the day. I'm getting kinda hungry, and we'll have to pick up the ingredients for dinner."

Aizawa nodded and took his hand in his. "There was an exit about two rooms over."

The blond smiled. "This was really sweet of you," he said softly. "Not many heroes would be willing to break into a museum just to appease their evil boyfriend." He paused. The word just sort of slipped out.

He tried to take it back, but Aizawa offered his own smile. It was far from his toothy grin, but it was still a welcome sight in the gloom that now surrounded them. He gently squeezed his hand. "They don't have a boyfriend like mine."


	19. Lemon Margarita Cocktail

Chapter Nineteen

Lemon Margarita Cocktail

Breaking out was easier than breaking in. On the inside, the security door didn't have a keypad, just a button that unlocked it temporarily. Aizawa opened it for him and a final round of echolocation and electric whistling allowed them to escape into the night scot-free, only stopping to rescue their clothes from where they'd hidden them.

As soon as there was a good distance between them and the museum, Hizashi stopped Aizawa and peppered his jawline with kisses. "You're so bad," he said with a laugh.

"Just don't expect me to do this sort of thing on the regular," Aizawa said with a grunt as he ran his hands through Hizashi's soft hair. "And expect a date where we pick up trash in the future."

"Your conscience can rest easy." He pulled Shouta into a firm kiss, but he didn't try to take it further – there would be time for that later. "Come on, we'll buy the ingredients for ramen, cook it, eat it, and then I think you deserve some sexy dessert."

He nipped at his earlobe and Eraserhead gently pulled him away, only to kiss him on the forehead. "Thank you, for what you told me in the butterfly house. I … appreciate the honesty."

Hizashi blinked in surprise, but then turned away. "I told you the truth because I don't underestimate Giran."

"I once stole a pack of gum." Hizashi turned back to him in confusion. Aizawa winked. Hizashi's heart raced. "They might take away my hero license if they found out."

"I think breaking into a museum is a worse crime."

"It was grape flavoured gum."

"Oh, that'd do it. Your secret is safe with me."

They stared at each other, managing to hold onto serious personas for a good few seconds, before they both broke out into stupid grins. After the rollercoaster of emotions both had just been through, it was a welcomed delight.

-x-

One train ride later and they were in Hizashi's local supermarket, picking out everything they'd need for ramen. "What toppings do you want?" asked Hizashi as he placed packaged pork into the shopping basket and compared the nutritional information on two packets of noodles.

"Bamboo and celery." People were staring at them. Hizashi was still sporting his dress, but Aizawa was getting just as many nervous glances for his biker getup. It didn't bother him at all, although he was surprised by how cool Hizashi was with it – then again, he was a man who should've been used to turning heads. Did he even like dressing colourfully, or was it all part of making his civilian persona different to Present Mic's?

Hizashi finally decided on a pack of noodles and was quiet as he picked out the other ingredients. Eraserhead didn't disturb him, just contentedly watched him go through the motions.

He'd fallen hard for Hizashi Yamada.

Thirty years, and he'd finally found someone he wanted. Even so, he didn't doubt that soon they would fight and, no matter the outcome, their relationship would end. Every day he wanted the third option more and more, but with each day he also realised just how impossible it would be.

Still, if their days were doomed to burn, he would make the most of them. He'd never stop trying to save Hizashi Yamada, even if it cost him his final breath.

They made their way to the register and the villain paid before Aizawa could even offer. Homemade ramen would certainly be more expensive than that from a vending machine but, knowing the blond, he would've rebuffed any offers anyway. He was still lost in thought, even as Aizawa picked up their grocery bags, but when he tried to wonder what could possibly be going through the man's head, Hizashi's face suddenly twisted into a wicked smile. He'd find out soon enough.

"Ready?" Hizashi asked innocently, yet his grin didn't faulter.

Maybe he should've been worried. "Ready." Then again, he looked sexy when he smiled like that…

They headed for the apartment building, with Aizawa carrying their grocery bags and their change of clothes. They weren't attacked again, at least not until they got into the elevator. The blond stepped inside, his grin still nefarious as he pressed the button for his floor twice. The doors closed, but the elevator went nowhere.

Before Aizawa could comment, he was attacked by his boyfriend.

Hizashi pulled him into a passionate kiss and this time he was the one to slip his tongue into Shouta's mouth as his arms snaked around his neck. The hero was pressed against the side of the elevator and he happily dropped the bags so he could wrap one arm around his waist and bring the other to cup the villain's face. Hizashi knew how to get his blood pumping.

Hizashi's tongue felt hot in his mouth as it playfully met his own, and his nostrils were filled with the blond's heady scent. It was messy. Saliva moistened their lips and ran down their chins. The hero tried to pull himself away, but Hizashi's arms just tightened around his neck and he kissed him even harder.

Aizawa eventually wrenched himself away, although a line of saliva still connected them. His mind was hazy with lust and staring at the blond's wicked expression did little to help him formulate his words. "Camera," he managed, his voice sounding deeper than expected.

"I turned it off," whispered Hizashi as he licked along his stubbled chin. "First thing I did when I moved in was 'fix' the elevator." He faintly recalled Hizashi pressing the button four times on their first date. "Besides, it's late at night. I doubt anyone will need the elevator, and you owe me for last time~"

"'Owe' you?" He grunted when Hizashi sucked at his neck, and the blond took the hand Aizawa had placed on his cheek and pulled it down. The hero's fingers ran through the soft fabric of the dress and then up the warm skin of Hizashi's leg, until… He shivered. "No underwear?"

"I told you," purred Hizashi as he rocked back against the hero's open palm. "Easy access~"

So he'd planned this right from the start…

Aizawa slid his other hand down to cup Hizashi's rear and hauled him forward so he could roughly grind their hips together. The blond moaned, his voice sending a soft vibration through their bodies, and Eraserhead leaned down and sunk his teeth into his supple neck. "_Fuck_!" half-cried-half-moaned the villain, although his body leaned into the pain. He didn't bite him hard enough to draw blood, but he kissed the skin affectionately afterwards. "The fuck w-was that for?"

Aizawa pulled away and pressed their foreheads together so he could meet the blond's fierce gaze. "You marked me, so I marked you." Hizashi trembled, as if the thought turned him on, and judging by the press of something against his leg, it _did_. "If we did this in the apartment, we'd have lube."

Rather than respond, Hizashi dropped to his knees and fiddled with Shouta's belt and zipper while he sucked three fingers on his other hand. Before Eraserhead could question it, his length sprung free from the uncomfortable jeans and the villain's lips were on him. He gasped at the sudden warmth as a skilled tongue roughly caressed the head of his erection. "You taste good~"

Aizawa looked down and he almost wished he hadn't. Hizashi - with his messy hair, and his red cheeks, and his lopsided glasses, and his glazed emerald eyes, and his hot tongue running over his tip - was the epitome of sin.

He groaned when those lips wrapped around him and diligently bobbed, and he saw stars when the villain moaned against him. Aizawa noticed the man's other hand wasn't where it'd been only moments ago, and he realised with unexpected envy that Hizashi was preparing himself, one finger at a time. He watched those sexy hips canter with every thrust and he stared at him as the villain tried to take the hero as deep as possible. The sight, paired with the blond suddenly deepthroating his length, was enough to send him over the edge. He really was rusty…

He put a hand over his mouth as he came, muffling his own groan as he struggled to not buck his hips deeper in his throat. Hizashi made a choking sound and quickly pulled away, spluttering. White rolled down his lips, but the blond licked it away before any fell to the floor. A hand reached up, grabbed the front of his shirt, and dragged the hero to the ground. "You _do _taste good~" purred the villain before he connected their lips in another sloppy kiss. Aizawa wasn't sure he really agreed with that, but he kissed him foolheartedly nevertheless. Hizashi moved into his lap and wrapped his freehand around Aizawa's length. "You're already so hard again~"

Without warning, he slipped his own fingers into Hizashi's mouth and, although he was taken slightly aback, he was soon sucking on them like a professional porn star. If Aizawa hadn't been completely hard before seeing that, he was now. He pulled Hizashi's hand away and slipped his own fingers inside his entrance as he activated his Erasure Quirk. "Be as loud as you want."

He rubbed his fingers against Hizashi's prostate, and the blond cried out in pleasure as he rocked back against him. "Shouta~!" Aizawa sucked at his neck as his fingers worked him over, but the blond had done a good job of preparing himself. "Need you, baby~ Need you in-inside~ Need you _deep~!_"

He removed his fingers and pulled the blond's hips forward until the hero's length was in line with his entrance. "Then ride me."

Hizashi impaled himself without warning, so quickly that even Eraserhead moaned at the sudden feeling of being engulfed. The blond arched his back and cried out, his glasses falling to the elevator floor. "Fuck~!" he moaned and bucked his hips, trying to get the hero's length as deep as it would go. "So big, baby~! So _good_~!"

God, Hizashi was the sexiest creature he'd ever seen.

-o-

Fuck, he felt _good!_ He never felt this good with anyone else, so why did he go crazy whenever Shouta Aizawa did this stuff to him? His neck still ached where the hero had marked him, but the dull throbbing only heightened the pleasure he felt from the thick shaft inside.

It hurt, despite the preparation – saliva could only do so much compared to lube – but Hizashi was a sucker for this sort of pain.

"Fuck baby, you feel so good, you fill me up so good~!" He moved his hips up and down, while moans trickled from his mouth. Fuck this was amazing. "You get me so deep~!" His hands grabbed Aizawa's shirt and wrenched it up so he could run his fingers over those scarred muscles while he bounced on his dick. This time he could touch him as much as he wanted. Hizashi changed the angle of his hips a few times, but finally saw stars when Aizawa's length pressed against his prostate.

At that moment, the lights went out and an alarm began to blare.

**FIRE. FIRE. PLEASE EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY VIA THE STAIRS. DO NOT USE THE ELEVATOR. FIRE. FIRE.**

Hizashi tried to keep going, but Aizawa's hands grabbed his waist and stopped him. Eraser went to say something, but the blond covered his mouth with a hand before he could. Aizawa looked so sexy like this, his Erasure eyes focused on him in the dark, his cheeks equally red with desire.

Hizashi groaned and stopped moving his hips, although he didn't let Aizawa move either. "One sec," he mumbled, an edge of breathiness making its way into his voice. Black hair fell about the hero's shoulders as he blinked his tired eyes, and Hizashi fiddled with one of his hearing-aids. The noise was loud, but he suffered through the pain in his ear by gently rocking his hips. The pleasure overrode the discomfort. People were fleeing down the stairs at the behest of the alarm, but he could hear them in the lobby too.

There were loud voices, deep, telling the people to get out the front doors and wait. The fire department? No, the station was a good fifteen minutes away. He couldn't hear any water sprinklers either.

Hizashi lowered the hearing-aid sensitivity and leaned down to kiss Aizawa's neck, "It's fine."

"But Boots," he managed to grind out, even as the blond rocked his hips harder. It was nice to see how concerned the man was about his cat. Why was he so worried about a fire? If anyone should've been worried, it should've been Hizashi.

"No fire," he explained as he resumed his pace from before and Aizawa didn't try to stop him. "It's an ambush."

"Ambush?"

Hizashi nodded and saw more stars when he rediscovered his prostate. "Fuck~ Let's make this qu-quick~" The hands on his hips complied and brought him down harder, but just when Aizawa's eyes turned red, there was a ding behind them.

The elevator doors opened.

Hizashi instantly covered Aizawa's face and eyes (both to hide his identity and stop his Quirk), while his second move was to swap to a female voice as he moaned. If he just kept his face turned away, they wouldn't recognise him, and thankfully the dress covered everything else. "Yukki, so good~ You make my p-pussy so happy~"

Aizawa's hands squeezed his hips, signalling that he understood.

"Oh!" called a deep voice from behind. "Sorry! We'll take the stairs!"

"Damn drunk teenagers," grumbled another voice, "can't keep it in their pants. Respect." If it had been a _real_ emergency, they wouldn't have just left them there.

The doors closed and he uncovered Aizawa's face. "Fuck that was hot," whimpered Hizashi in his own voice. "I'm close~"

"You need t-to check your priorities," grumbled the man, an edge of intense pleasure rounding out his mellifluous voice.

He grinned devilishly. "Th-then let's finish up, and kick some ass~"

Aizawa's hands on his hips pulled him down harder and the man's eyes turned red. Hizashi didn't even need to touch himself as the man rammed directly into his prostate. With another few thrusts they both met their edge. The blond covered his mouth as he screamed with his release, and he saw even more stars when he felt hot liquid fill him. Fuck, why did that feel so _fucking __**good**_?

He rocked his hips a few final times, trying to milk as much warmth from the shaft as he could, but the hero beneath him would only be patient for so long. "L-Let's continue this later," murmured Hizashi as he slowly pulled himself off the length, shuddering as hot seed ran down his leg. He grabbed his glasses and got to his feet, although his legs trembled fiercely as he forced himself to the panel on the wall and opened it.

"How many are there?" Aizawa asked, back on his feet and looking no more bedraggled than he usually did. He'd already put himself away.

"Does it matter?" asked Hizashi as he pulled a hand-sized disc from behind the panel. "Why can't we just have a nice date where we _don't _get ambushed? They're gonna pay. We should have enough time to get to the apartment and get changed before they break down the stairwell door. They think I was bad before? They're gonna see how bad I can be."

"We're not killing anyone, Mic."

Hizashi huffed, "We won't." He pressed a few buttons on the disc and returned it to the elevator's panel before he hit his floor button four times. He stood before the metal doors, his dress dishevelled and dirty, his hair sweaty and tangled, with warmth dripping down his leg. Despite all that, he was a sight to be feared. "But let's make them regret facing us together."

* * *

Hey! Woolfy here! Thanks for all the reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying the fic and our two disaster bois! I have a tumblr if you're interested on following me on there where I repost a lot of EraserMic stuff and occasionally draw pictures, some relating to The Way I Behaved!

My tumblr is called: ForTheWoolfy


	20. Blood

Chapter Twenty

Blood

Hizashi's floor was void of villains, at least until he stepped into the hallway. "The elevator can't go to this floor unless you press the button a certain number of times," he explained as he unlocked his front door. Boots rushed over to greet them, but was gently scooped up as Hizashi moved to a wall with a painting on – a replica of the famous _Nighthawks _piece. "They can take the stairs or go via the fire escape, but the locking mechanisms I use are air tight. They _should_ be able to force them open, but it'll buy us some time at least." He placed his thumb on the door of the painting, and a click told him the way to his lab was unlocked.

Aizawa changed into his hero attire, complete with goggles, utility belt, knife and his capture weapon, while Hizashi slid the painting into the wall to reveal a glowing room beyond. He stepped through with his cat still purring in his arms, and the dressed hero wasn't far behind him.

His lab had taken a long time to set up to his satisfaction, but here it was. He noticed Aizawa's eyes glancing in every direction. "Don't they notice your strange power usage?" the hero asked.

"I use car batteries and my own personal generator."

"What's this one?" Aizawa asked as he gestured to a blocky device.

Hizashi glanced over and damn he could've slapped himself. "You don't know a 3D printer when you see one?"

"Not all of us are villainous masterminds."

"It's just a … forget it." He rolled his eyes but couldn't resist a dumb smile as he sent a quick text on his phone. A black portal opened beside him as Kurogiri returned the costume pieces he'd left at his bar the other night. "I'm going to fight as Present Mic. I'll lend you a pair of noise cancelling headphones to help protect you against my chords."

He transferred Kurogiri the money for the transport, set his cat down and pulled off the dress so he could clean himself and change into his villain costume. Aizawa glanced away and said, "They set off the fire alarm so they'd get everyone out the building, hoping you'd run into their grasp."

"Giran knows my home would be well protected, and he thought a fire threat would scare me enough to make me panic – he was wrong." He pulled on his Directional Speaker and his leather jacket. "Boots will be safe in the lab. I'll hold back my Quirk so I don't kill anyone or knock down any buildings." Hizashi Yamada ran the gel through his hair to stick it up, pulled on his headphones and winked at Aizawa. "Hope you can keep up though."

"I'll do my best," murmured the pro-hero as he pulled his goggles over his eyes.

Hizashi equipped his pair of orange triangular specs and let the persona take over. "Well come on then, _Dear Listener," _he said in a voice entirely different to his own,_ "_let's not keep our audience waiting!"

-x-

The thugs busted through the door to the eleventh floor, panting from the exertion. "What the hell did this guy bolt that door with?" groaned the first one. He was a small man with black hair and a long cloak. "Titanium?"

"Shut up," warned the second, a female with leather wings, "we got through, didn't we?"

"We should've just taken the elevator with those horny teenagers."

"That would've been rude," said a large suit of armour in a male voice.

"I nearly broke my limbs busting the door down! _That _was rude!"

In total, seven thugs had gone up to the Bat's floor, while about thirteen were stationed around the building. Four were just typical goons, but three were elites. Their job was to kidnap a hero by the name of Eraserhead, who could Erase Quirks, but to bring in the Trojan Bat too if the possibility arose. They were _supposed_ to bring him in unharmed, but…

"When I get my hands on that freak," growled a large tailed man with a gauze pad over one ear, "I'm gonna tear off his limbs!"

"You can try!" called an unfamiliar voice and when they turned to look, a man dressed in leather and orange shades stood at the other end of the hallway, alone. As he talked, he violently gesticulated with his hands, "I'm sorry, _Dear Listeners_, but you'll have to reach me first!"

He didn't match the personality description Giran had given, but the blond hair and orange specs were a dead giveaway.

"Bat!" cried the man with the tail. "You're gonna pay for my ear!"

The audacious villain waggled a finger at him, "No, no, no, _Dear Listener, _there's no 'Bat' here!" He pointed his thumbs at his own smug grin. "The name is '_Present Mic'_, and I'll be your announcer for this evening_._"

"I don't care what you fucking call yourself!" yelled the man as he ran at the villain, eyes crazed with rage. Three other goons followed at his heels while the three elites hung back.

Present Mic's shoulders trembled, but they realised too late that it was from withheld laughter. "I know I'm good, but no need to be **_IMPATIENT!_**"

Waves of sound rippled through their bodies and sent them hurling backwards.

"The hell!" called one as she covered her ears. "I thought his Quirk was supposed to be something like Echolocation!"

"Must be the speaker around his neck!"

"How astute of you, _Dear Listeners!" _said Present Mic, his grin never falling. "You gonna do anything about it, though? I'm getting **_BORED_**!" Their bodies slammed against the walls again, their hands pressed uselessly over their ears.

However, one of the thugs only had to cover one ear. "I'm gonna tear you to pieces!" called the tailed villain as he set himself in the blond's direction, moving one foot at a time despite the waves that fought against him.

Even so, when he reached half the length of the hallway, the door to the Bat's apartment swung open and the sound stopped. The tailed man turned, only to have thick bandages wrap around his body and something hard connect with his face. His body cracked against the wall, before he was suddenly pulled away and flung at his own comrades.

He bowled several over, but they pulled themselves up quickly to study the new contender. In front of the grinning blond stood a man dressed all in black, with a pair of black headphones, golden goggles and floating black hair: Eraserhead.

"This is getting interesting," murmured the smaller thug as tentacles emerged from beneath his cloak. "I'll take the hero. They're delicious when they're broody."

"I want them _both_," purred the female with velvet wings.

The man with the tail growled as he hauled himself to his feet. "The blond one is mine."

Present Mic moved forward and leaned on Eraserhead's shoulder. "**_HURRY UP THEN_**!"

The tentacled man covered his ears with two of his extra appendages and rushed for them, tongue hanging out in glee. Bandages launched for him, but one of his remaining tentacles grabbed the scarf before it wrapped around him and wrenched it away. If he'd been hoping to pull Eraserhead off balance, he was successful. However, as the hero hurtled forward, Eraser pressed his hand against the floor and spun his body at the tentacled-villain. A boot caught him across the face.

The villain recoiled, but successfully caught Eraserhead's ankle in another tendril.

"**_BACK OFF!_**" Present Mic's voice may not have reached the man's covered ears, but the point-blank force of it still sent him flying, although Eraser was dragged with him. Even so, the hero didn't appear to be in any trouble as he wrapped his capture weapon around three other thugs and flung them at the tentacled-man. The tendril released him as the elite tried to pull them off.

Present Mic pressed the button for the elevator, a nefarious gleam flickering across his orange specs. The man with the tail ignored the hero and rushed at him, but the Voice Villain dodged his swing with ease as he turned up the volume on his speaker. "You're just lucky I'm Mic right now, _Dear Listener._"

The man turned, just as a sound dinged behind him. The elevator opened and Mic inhaled.

"**_GOING DOWN_****!" **The man was flung into the lift, only to be knocked back again when several of his comrades were tossed into the elevator as well. The bandages released them and the doors drew shut, leaving the four in utter darkness.

_"Welcome," _said a female voice that none of them recognised. _"Please state the password." _The man with the tail growled, his ears still ringing. He tried to pry the doors open, but an electrical current knocked him back. _"Please state the password."_

"Fucking Bat!" he yelled and again tried to force the door, only to get shocked again.

_"Incorrect password." _The voice shifted to that of the villain. _"Have a nice nap."_

A cloud of yellow smoke exuded from a panel beneath the controls, effectively filling the elevator. The thug slammed his hands against the buttons, but they were all unresponsive as the gas filled their lungs. The other three thugs in the elevator dropped to the ground and, although he fought to stay awake, the man with the tail could only hold on for so long as sleep overtook him.

-o-

"You're good at batting people around, _Eraserhead_," said the blond with a wicked grin. His heart was pounding. "Hopefully it won't become a habit."

Aizawa straightened up and turned to face the three elite thugs: the winged woman, the man with tentacles and the large suit of armour who'd seemingly done nothing but stand back.

The tentacled man peeled himself from the floor and licked blood from his lips. "You got the useless outta the way. Good, sharing ain't any fun."

"Oh shut up," said the woman, earning a fierce look from him. She swayed forward and extended her wings, "Come and try _me_, boys~"

"Keep your distance," ordered the suit of armour as he finally stepped forward. "They're strong."

"Ready, Mic?"

Present Mic somehow grinned even wider. "Whenever you are, _Dearest Listener." _He climbed onto the hero's back and wrapped his legs around him while pressing the headphones tight against Eraser's ears. The man's capture weapon helped hold him in place.

Eraser raced towards the trio, just as the blond sent out another vocal blast. The woman covered her ears with her hands, but the short man still had his tentacles around his own, and the armour appeared completely unaffected. The hero didn't know which to look at.

The hallway turned completely black, and to the shock of both Eraserhead and Present Mic, swords began to manifest from the void. The hero leapt to the side to avoid a blade, only to nearly sway into another. Mic threw his voice against it, and the sword snapped into the darkness. Eraserhead turned his sight on the armoured elite and the dark hallway instantly vanished. So _that _was his Quirk.

"Don't forget about me!" A tentacle lashed out from his blind spot and grabbed Eraser's face, slamming him against the wall repeatedly. However, the man wasn't expecting the blond on Eraser's back to suddenly sink his teeth into the tentacle. "DUDE! OW! WHAT THE FUCK?" The tentacle released Eraser's face instantly, but Present Mic held on with his jaws, even as inky blood dribbled from his teeth.

White bandages wrapped around the small man and Mic finally released him so Eraserhead could throw him at the winged girl, but she easily dodged. "Typical," she groaned and took flight over their heads, but judging by Eraserhead's movements he was still using his ability on the suit of armour. "You can erase Quirks, right Eraserhead? Well, pick your poison!" She settled at the other end of the hallway. "Either you erase my Quirk, or you erase his!" She gestured at the suit of armour.

Present Mic _laughed, _black blood still oozing down his chin as he turned his body, still held against Eraser's back by the scarf. "Now, now, now, _Dear Listener, _don't forget there are two of us, and you're not immune to _my _beautiful voice!"

"Voice!" she said with a gasp. "_That _must be his Quirk! How fun, although I guess it's too late for you both anyway."

Present Mic opened his mouth to say something but paused at the scent: warm coffee and cheap shampoo and messy sex and Shouta Aizawa. Even though he was literally tied to him, the heady smell shouldn't have been _this _strong. Damn it was intoxicating. He felt the heat rise in his cheeks and his mind grew nebulous. Shit, he couldn't even think straight. He felt Aizawa shivering behind him, certainly under the same spell. When had…?

When she'd flown over them!

"Welcome to my Quirk: Deadly Sin! I recreate the scent of the thing you want most and your bodily reaction is based on what that is. If that smell is another person, you're consumed by _lust_."

"Stop trying to be a diva," grumbled the tentacle man as he forced himself back up, clicking his arm back into the socket like it was nothing. "You don't have the fashion sense to pull it off, sweetie."

She gasped, "I've literally never seen you wear anything except that scungy cloak!"

"Both of you," warned the armour, "bicker later."

Shit, he wanted Eraserhead. He wanted him now. No, every day: to wake up to that smell, to kiss those hot lips, to see that handsome face of his, and if Mic killed him…

Present Mic paused. "Eraser," he said quietly, "let go." The bandages trembled as they fell away, and the villain stood tall, much to the trio's shock. Aizawa shivered behind him, his breathing so loud and strained, yet he never stopped using his Quirk on the suit of armour.

If Mic killed him… If Mic killed him…

_When __**Mic**__ killed him._

"What're you doing?" growled the woman.

The scent had changed; no longer did he smell coffee or shampoo or the barista he loved.

Mic repositioned his glasses and licked his bloodied lips. The thing Hizashi Yamada wanted most in the world was Shouta Aizawa.

But he was **Present Mic.**

The villain inhaled the scent of blood and fire and carnage.

"Sorry, _Dear Listener," _he said to the woman, his voice unnaturally low,_ "_but the only thing _I _want, is for you to become a **_Dead _**_Listener_."


	21. Whisky

Chapter Twenty-One

Whisky

Books and cologne and hair gel and Hizashi Yamada: that was all Eraserhead could smell. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and bury his face in his lover's neck, to inhale that scent he adored, but what little reason remained told him to keep using his Quirk on the armoured man. If he slipped up for even a second, they'd be in trouble.

His eyes were burning beneath his goggles, his face aching from where he'd been beaten against the wall, yet he refused to blink.

"Sorry, _Dear Listener,_" Mic said behind him, his voice muffled through his headphones,_ "_but the only thing _I _want, is for you to become a **_Dead_**_ Listener_."

Right, he'd almost forgotten. Hizashi didn't _really _want him; not in the way Aizawa wanted_ him_. Soon they would fight, and he would put everything he was into it, or else he'd lose more than just the man he loved.

Aizawa forced himself to straighten up, despite the pheromones that plagued his mind with lustful thoughts, and he launched his capture weapon at the two male enemies. They hadn't expected his sudden attack. The scarf snagged around them both and Eraserhead pulled tight on his capture weapon, launching himself into the air as he simultaneously pulled them to him.

Yes, he'd handle these guys, even in his current state. Present Mic could handle the other one.

His boots connected with both targets, sending them flying back as he relinquished his hold on the bandages. However, thick tentacles wrapped around his waist and slammed him to the floor, successfully pinning him down. Eraser's mind told his body he was in danger – his eyes were closed, so he wasn't stopping the sword Quirk – but he couldn't move. Even so, nothing happened. He could hear Present Mic yelling behind him, louder than expected through the goggles, but he had to focus on himself for now. These two clearly believed in the strength of the woman, for neither went to interrupt her fight with the villain.

"We need him alive," grumbled the armour to the shorter man. "Be gentle."

"He kicked me in the_ face_! My hubby is gonna ask why I have _bruises! '_Oh, you know honey, I just got my _ass handed to me by_ _another_ _hero, _but it's okay, I swear I wasn't trying to _kill anyone this time!_' I'm going to be on the _couch _for a _week! _So _sorry,_" the tentacle lifted Aizawa into the air and slammed him back down repeatedly. "If I'm." _Bang._ "A little." _Bang._ "**_Upset_**!" _Bang._

"Tell him we were sparring and I punched you."

The tentacled man gasped in horror. "Lying is _not _the basis of a healthy marriage!"

Aizawa's head swam with pain and the smell of Hizashi, but during the thug's tantrum he was able to slip one hand free without him noticing. He felt around his belt while the two bickered (well, while one bickered at the other) and successfully freed his knife. Before he could be stopped, Eraserhead slammed the blade into the tentacle around his chest.

The thug yelped and instantly flung him against a wall, releasing him in the process. "HE **_STABBED_** ME!"

Eraser pulled himself up and inhaled as he brandished the knife, but was surprised to find the haze was fading. Present Mic must've -

The tentacled man suddenly stopped, his mouth agape and his face contorted in horror, despite his fresh injury. Even the suit of armour grew still beside him.

Eraserhead turned. His stomach dropped.

The woman was on the ground with Present Mic's boot grinding into her face. There was blood, and even through the headphones he could hear a disgusting _snap _as Mic twisted her wing at an impossible angle. She screamed, voice wavering between higher and lower pitches, but she couldn't escape his hold_. _

"Such a nice voice, _Dear Listener_!"

_Snap._

She screamed again. His boot pressed harder.

Eraserhead stared.

"LET HER GO!" The tentacled man raced past him, as if he could no longer see anything beyond his friend being hurt.

Present Mic turned. His grin was sadistic. "There'll be time for you soon, **_DEAR LISTENER!" _**The volume was deafening, even with the headphones. The building shook and the thug slammed back into the wall, leaving cracks and an indent in the brickwork. He was finally out cold.

The suit of armour pressed his hand against the floor, sending another torrent of darkness aimed directly for the blond, and Eraserhead had to do _something._

His capture weapon ensnared Present Mic and pulled him out of harm's way.

"Eraser?" he cried as he was wrenched from his prey. Eraserhead's eyes flared red, but they weren't aimed at any of the lesser villains: he only had eyes for the blond. There was a solid _thud _as the hero slammed Mic into the wall. The orange specs turned to him. The villain licked his lips, his head lolling on his neck. "So rude, my _Dearest Listener_~"

Eraserhead gritted his teeth. What had the pheromones done to him? He saw the suit of armour move, but to his relief the thug was running to the woman's side. Present Mic inhaled, but the hero had his eyes back on him before he could use his Voice Quirk.

_If you hurt a civilian, or a hero, or anyone other than me, Hizashi, I'm going to stop you._

Without any other option, he wrenched Mic forward and repeatedly slammed him against the wall, only stopping when Hizashi Yamada's bruised body went limp. Darkness spread across the wall and Eraserhead spun around to eye the armour before his unconscious boyfriend was impaled. He had to get him some place safe.

In seconds, Eraserhead pulled Hizashi onto his back, secured him with his capture weapon like he had earlier, and ran into the apartment. The door slammed shut behind him, but the suit of armour didn't try to follow for now, but they didn't have much time. He'd mentioned a fire escape earlier. It was bound to be guarded but there was no other way.

Eraser moved to the _Nighthawks _painting and pressed Hizashi's thumb to the door, while a click signified the secret room was unlocked. As he slid it to the side, Boots rushed over, happily meowing at the company: he couldn't leave the cat. Aizawa scooped her up and resealed the lab as he turned to the window for his daring escape with a man on his back and a cat in one arm.

As soon as he stepped onto the railing, he had to avoid a flaming arrow. Voices called out below, alerting the enemy of his position. Boots squirmed in his arms but he held onto her tightly as he leapt off the fire escape. He flung out the ends of the capture weapon with the blond still safely on his back, and he hooked the scarf around the edge of a billboard advertising whisky. He swung away from the building and landed safely on the roof of the next building over.

"Sorry Boots," he murmured quietly as the cat unhappily struggled in his arms. Eraserhead ran across the rooftop as more arrows flew after him, even though the shooter wasn't in sight. He leapt over the gap to the next building over, all while ducking and weaving between the barrage of arrows.

Aizawa attached his capture weapon to the end of a vent and rappelled down to street level, ending his escape via back alleyways. Thankfully he'd reached his typical patrol area – he undoubtably knew these streets better than any thug following them. With a dizzying array of left and right turns, Eraserhead finally decided he could risk finding somewhere safe to hide. The Capsule Hotel was a no go, and he couldn't get Nemuri involved or else she'd lock his lover away.

He couldn't get the image of the villain sadistically torturing that woman from his mind.

Eraserhead glanced at the blond on his shoulder. His glasses were still miraculously on, his eyes closed behind them. He looked so innocent when he slept.

He'd have to find a hotel, one that would allow him to bring the cat in as well.

-x-

Damn, his head hurt.

He cuddled into the pillows but felt something warm pressed against him. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to find Boots cuddled into his side. She wasn't usually allowed on the bed due to his sensitive hearing-aid but he didn't really mind the company, until he glanced around.

This wasn't his bedroom.

"We're at a hotel," said a voice that was deep and tired. Hizashi looked up to see Shouta Aizawa, sitting on a chair beside the bed, looking like he hadn't slept in years. "How's your head?"

"Hurts." He sat up and checked himself over. Hizashi's Directional Speaker, headphones, glasses and leather jacket had been placed to the side, while he only wore one of his hearing-aids. Oh, Aizawa must've remembered he only slept with one in. He found the other on the side table and put it back on. "Did we win?"

"I had to knock you out and bring you here."

Hizashi froze. The blond couldn't remember the fight beyond shoving a bunch of thugs into his sleep-rigged elevator, although he faintly recalled three tough opponents and Aizawa's scent. "What happened?" Aizawa shook his head and tossed him something: a chocolate bar. He looked it over and forced himself to smile. "Guess it's another vending machine date."

The man grunted, lost in thought. The air about him was so strained, so conflicted, that as soon as the blond finished eating his 'dinner', he knew questions were coming. Still, he had to repeat his own before the hero started.

"What _happened, _Sho?"

"Hizashi… You started _torturing _one of them."

His stomach squeezed. "No," he said in amazement, "I was in my Present Mic persona. I'm not…" Yes he could get sadistic in a fight, especially if he was the Trojan Bat, but to act like that in front of Shouta and not remember it…? "Are _you_ okay?" he asked quietly.

"No," Aizawa said honestly. "Tell me the real reason a boy who loved books and reading became a villain."

He was surprised by the sudden question. "I told you already. I made tech for villains because they were profitable."

"And then a kid died, Mic. What did you do?"

Hizashi flinched. "I left Giran."

"But you kept selling to villains."

"I made sure they were villains who didn't hurt kids."

"What about villains who hurt other innocent civilians? Did you stop selling to them?" Hizashi felt sick, but Eraserhead's soft yet piercing voice didn't relent. "You didn't. Then what happened?"

"Then I met you."

"Before that."

The blond pulled his sleeping cat into his lap. She woke, but just snuggled against him and went back to sleep. "I decided I no longer wanted to rely on my tech. I wanted to become a different type of villain, one who relied on his Quirk."

"Yet you use a Directional Speaker – isn't that tech?"

Hizashi cringed. He must've really fucked up. "It is, but it's-"

"Why_ are_ you a villain?"

"I just told you-"

"No, you were the Bat for profit. Why did you become _Present Mic_?" Hizashi ground his teeth together. Aizawa stood. "You could've stopped. You _killed _someone, whether it was intentional or not, and you _ran_, but didn't stop." He crawled onto the mattress, a slow and drawn out movement that woke Boots again. She mewled and Aizawa sat himself beside the blond, appearing so conflicted it made his chest ache.

This was _everything_ the man had pent up since the beginning. All the betrayal, all the pain, all the shitty things Hizashi had done to him since the moment he'd walked into the café, all spurned on by the sight of his true villainous side, and Aizawa just looked…He just looked…

"Sho…" Hizashi said weakly.

"You didn't change. You act like it tortured you, and I'm sure it did, but swapping one villain name for another won't satisfy your guilt. You can't repent like that."

Hizashi froze. He'd been found out so easily.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but was silenced by a kiss. There was so much pain behind it, so much fear, that he hated himself for still enjoying it. He tried to think of something to say, but when Aizawa pulled away he spoke first.

"… I don't think you could _ever_ be a hero." Why did those honest words _hurt? _"There's a switch in you. I saw it after I almost drowned. One moment you're Hizashi, the man I adore, and the next you're a villain, hellbent on destruction."

He looked so… He looked so…

Hizashi turned away, because if he kept looking at Aizawa he might've cried. "I'm never not a villain. Hizashi is just as evil as the Bat and Present Mic."

"Why did you become a villain? The _real_ reason – the _original _reason."

He trembled, but no longer had the will to lie. "I was born with my Quirk. From the moment I started crying, with my very first breath, I hurt those around me. My parents had the decision. They could put a muzzle on me, but my speech and language skills would forever be impaired, or they could forego the muzzle and risk our hearing… They went with the latter." He gently stroked the cat as her comforting purrs filled the room. "Even though I'm perpetually at the centre of my Quirk, my ears have some resistance due to the way sound travels through the bones on my face. It still made me mostly deaf, but my parents…" He trembled. "By the time I reached high school, they couldn't hear _anything._ I learnt sign language for _them_. I didn't just research hearing and tech for myself, I did it for _them_, but no matter what I built … nothing helped."

Aizawa was silent.

"When I was fifteen, there was a fire. I was at the library when it happened and I got home late, only to find the apartment building _burning_. It had been an accident, a broken heater on the floor below, but… They never escaped." His body trembled. He'd never spoken about this to _anyone_. Why did he have to say it to Shouta Aizawa? Fuck. "If they'd muzzled me, if I hadn't been such a loud kid, if I'd somehow built them something that'd worked … they would've heard the fire alarm, the knocks on their doors as they evacuated everyone. There were only three casualties in the entire building – my parents and a woman on the floor below. If I'd been home, I could've got them out. If…" He saw a hand reach out for him, but Aizawa's hand paused in mid-air. The villain exhaled shakily. "I was to blame and everyone knew it. No one wanted me, the kid who was too loud, and too uneducated, and too … _annoying_."

"Hizashi…" His voice sounded so strained. "You're…"

"Isn't _this _what you wanted to hear? My _tragic_ backstory? I had to work for Giran just so I could_ live_ in this world!" His tears were so hot as they rolled down his face, swollen and ugly, just as they'd been when he'd stared at that blazing building so long ago. "There were no heroes who tried to save me, who told me everything would be okay! My_ Quirk _killed my parents and then my _tech_ killed a kid. No matter what I do, people _burn,_ so I might as well accept my fate! If everything I love burns, then I'm going to burn **_everything_**_!_" Aizawa's hands finally clamped on his shoulders, so tightly it hurt, and Hizashi finally looked at the man.

Yes, Shouta Aizawa looked… _defeated._

So many emotions were running over the man's face, with so many different words on his lips. "DJ Yamada," he said quietly, his voice so pained it surprised Hizashi, "I need some advice." The blond was silent, but Aizawa continued. "How can I travel back in time?"

Hizashi was confused. "…You can't, _Dearest Listener_…"

"How can I change the past?"

"…You can't."

"How can I save the man I _love_?"

He felt so cold, but the tears down his face were burning hot. "You _can't_, Sho…"

"Why can't we save each other?"

Hizashi shivered and pressed his hand against Aizawa's cheek. His thumb trailed over his scar. "Because I fell in love with a tired barista who called me a baby, and I then fell in love with a hero who was willing to spare a villain. We're disasters, Sho. Complete and utter_ disasters_. We can't save ourselves, let alone anyone else – not in a way that actually matters."

The man leaned down to kiss him again. It was softer, but the action still brimmed with pain.

"The only person who has ever thought I was handsome, and witty, and funnier than I looked, is a villain who wants me dead … but I still want our third option, Hizashi. I'm willing to do anything for it. We could try it for ten minutes, or a year, or a lifetime. For however long we decide, we could try it. Let's just … forget when we're alone, that we're a villain and a hero. Let's pretend I never interrupted your debut, that I'm not Eraserhead and you're not Present Mic, just when we're alone. When I'm out on patrol I can try to stop you as much as I want, but when we're at home, cooking in our kitchen, or making love, or just living our civilian lives, let's just be Hizashi and Shouta."

Hizashi shivered. "Don't you get it, Sho? This isn't about my debut, or Present Mic, or even Eraserhead anymore – it hasn't for a _long _time. It's _because _I love you that we can't have a third option. You're … my bridge."

"Bridge?"

Hizashi nodded and looked back down. "The only one in the world who thinks I can still do any good, who thinks they can see a glimpse of light where there's only darkness. You're the olive branch that anyone other than me wouldn't be stupid enough to rebuke. You're the voice of reason for a man deafened since infancy. We're both _drowning_, Sho, but you're trying to keep my head above water, even when all I want to do is drag you down." He inhaled so deeply his lungs ached and he pressed their foreheads together. "You're my **bridge**, and so you _must __**burn**_."


	22. Milk

Chapter Twenty-Two

Milk

It had been several days since he'd last seen Hizashi Yamada, and Shouta Aizawa hadn't been doing so well. After his speech, Hizashi had practically forced him from the hotel room, claiming he would contact him the next day, but he never had. He hadn't even answered any of Aizawa's texts or calls. The hero, without a better option, had stayed at Nemuri's, but her place was far from work, so he ended up with less sleep than before, and although his friend cooked for him, he didn't have much of an appetite. He couldn't even bring himself to listen to DJ Yamada's show on the Tuesday, and his co-workers had been confused by the unexpected silence.

He'd kept his eyes open for Giran's thugs, but none had attacked him or the café. Aizawa was just starting to think he'd never see Hizashi Yamada again, when the blond walked in with a bag of sandwiches five minutes before his lunchbreak on the Wednesday. He stared at the beautiful man as he made his way to the register, and his heart broke a little more.

"Hey Sho," said Hizashi with a small smile, but… he looked just as bad as he did. His hair was tied in its usual bun, yet far messier, as if it'd been tied like that for days, and there were dark rings around his eyes. His clothes were the plainest he'd ever seen and his fingers twitched as he leaned against the register. Shouta didn't know whether he wanted to dismiss him or coddle him.

"Your laptop's here," Aizawa said carefully as he pulled it out from beneath the counter.

Hizashi looked surprised to see it, but accepted it back. "Thanks… I brought you some lunch."

"I'm not really hungry," he admitted quietly. "What're you ordering?"

Hizashi winced. "Do I still get a stamp if I just order a glass of milk?" Aizawa nodded and typed the total into the register. The blond paid quietly, got his card stamped, and the barista wrote on his cup without asking for a name. "I won't stay," Hizashi said as he placed the bag of sandwiches down. "But can you meet me later? Outside, at the end of your shift. I need to talk to you about the other night."

Aizawa put a lid on the takeaway cup and called out the name he'd written down, "Yamada? Is there a Yamada here?"

It almost hurt him to see Hizashi's face twist, but he was hurting just as much. "Okay, I deserve that for not messaging you. I've … had a lot on my mind." He stepped forward and accepted it with a forced smile. "… I get a free drink soon, right?"

"The visit after the next." Aizawa said automatically, but when the blond looked at him like that he couldn't stop himself from deflating. "We'll talk tonight," he conceded. "_Just _talk."

"I'll see you at closing." Hizashi took his milk and his laptop and left the store. Eraserhead just watched him go with another heavy sigh.

-x-

Hizashi was waiting outside for him when he finished. He hadn't changed or anything, in fact he still had his laptop with him. Had he just waited outside all day? "Hey," the blond said with a forced smile.

He looked exhausted. Shouta held out his hand, "I'll buy dinner."

"I thought we were just talking."

"I'm hungry."

Hizashi's smile relaxed into one that was more genuine and he gently took his hand. His fingers felt cold. "From a vending machine?"

"If you want."

"You back at the Capsule Hotel?"

"No." The blond didn't try to push the topic further. He figured Hizashi wasn't at his apartment either, especially since the villains had known where it was, but he didn't ask where he'd moved after that night in the hotel – he knew for a fact he hadn't stayed there. They reached a small park with several food stalls. Aizawa bought them some takoyaki to share, but neither had much of an appetite.

They found a small bench beside the man-made lake with no one around - they could speak in private. "Why haven't you had me arrested?" Hizashi finally asked, his voice sounding soft.

"If there's a chance Giran is still after me, I need every ally I can get. Besides, the only hero you've ever attacked is me, and you've saved me just as many times," he said as he scratched the back of his head. "I'll arrest you later. For now, it's logical to have you out."

Hizashi shook his head. "It's illogical and you know it."

"I guess we're both hypocrites."

"I'm leaving town." Aizawa was taken aback by the spontaneous admission, but the blond never took his eyes from the lake. "I'm giving up DJ Yamada too. Tomorrow is my last show, so … I hope you listen in."

"You going to be a villain in this new town?"

Hizashi tried one of the takoyaki, chewing it slowly before he answered. "I thought about what you said, about repenting. I think I'm going to give mundanity a try."

Aizawa sighed. "Why tell me this? I could arrest you right now. I _should_."

"As you said, if I'm arrested then Giran might still come after you, but if I leave you'll be safer. After every shitty thing I did to you, you deserved to know." He turned to the hero and paused. "You're still wearing that necklace?"

Aizawa put a hand up and felt the small coin around his neck, his eyes softening at the reassuring feel of it. "Someone special gave it to me."

Hizashi exhaled. "Sho, I know you must hate me, but-"

"I don't," he said precisely, rendering the blond speechless.

Hizashi exhaled again, shakier. "You said about trying the third option. Ten minutes, a year, a lifetime…" He gently took Aizawa's hand in his own and looked up at him – his face was so tender, yet so undeniably sad. "How about one night?"

-x-

Hizashi could barely remember how they'd got to a hotel, but there they were. Even as the door slammed shut, their hands were already on each other, desperately feeling, both knowing this would be the last time.

His laptop was carelessly dropped on the floor, along with their clothes as their bodies grinded against one another. Aizawa kissed at his neck, sending electricity through his spine when his lips brushed over the mark he'd left days ago. "Can barely see it anymore," the hero murmured against his skin and Hizashi gasped in pleasure when he bit down to re-mark him.

As he leaned into the pain, a hand rubbed teasingly against his entrance, and Hizashi moaned in pleasure as he clung to Aizawa's back. "Be as rough as you want~"

The hero grunted and pulled his teeth away. "I want you on your hands and knees."

Hizashi shivered and obeyed, his ass in the air as Aizawa climbed onto the bed behind him. His hands were on the blond again, running over his sides and kissing at his back, before three fingers pressed against his lips. The villain purred quietly, "So impatient…"

"For tonight, you're mine. I'm going to take you as many times as I can, in as many positions. No matter how far you go, or who else you have, you won't be able to forget me."

Hizashi shivered happily at the words and wrapped his tongue around the fingers, his world already coated in a haze of lust. This was his last night, and he didn't want to spend it with anyone else.

-x-

They went many times, but the final round was different to the others.

Aizawa rolled Hizashi onto his back and took in the sight of his beautiful face, flushed with satisfaction and lust and something sweeter when his eyes looked up at him – love, no doubt. "Hey you~" Hizashi purred. Their bodies were covered in hickeys and bite marks and the imprint of nails, as if they'd each been desperate to leave their mark on the other. Aizawa stopped to apply some more eyedrops, but he knew he was nearing the limit of his Quirk.

"One more round," he murmured as he leaned down and nipped at the villain's neck.

Hizashi laughed, almost sadly, "You said that two rounds ago…"

He rocked his hips against the blond's, their lengths brushing up against each other until they were hard. "You complaining?" Aizawa inhaled his scent, vowing to never forget it. This man was a hurricane, a disaster who'd entered his life and torn his world to shreds while he'd stood in the eye of the storm and marvelled its beauty. It had taken Shouta thirty years to find someone so imperfect, yet so perfect, and he knew he'd never feel this way about anyone ever again.

"Last round then," said the blond, "don't think I could take another~"

Aizawa pressed his length against his entrance – it was already slicked and ready for him as he pushed inside. Hizashi's legs wrapped around his waist and his fingers entangled in his jet-black hair. His body pulled him in as deep as he could go, and the blond arched his back in pleasure. Aizawa couldn't get enough of his expression of pure bliss, with his red cheeks and his tongue lolling out, and this time he couldn't resist the urge to capture that tongue in a messy kiss.

He didn't rock his hips at first, just kissed him and felt his body and heat while Hizashi trembled beneath him, but a few impatient thrusts from the blond got him moving, albeit slowly. "F-Faster~"

Aizawa brought his lips to his ear and lightly nibbled at his earlobe, just beneath his hearing-aid. "Taking my time." It was torturous, even for him. His shaft pulled in and out so easily, lubricated by his seed from previous rounds, and it would've been so easy to go all out again, but he wanted to savour every moment. He grinded against his sweet spot as he teased his neck, and Hizashi's moans felt nice as they echoed through them. Eraser didn't need to use his Quirk at this stage.

It was endearing how often the blond had slipped with his Voice Quirk that night. With every round, he slowly lost more and more control, but even so he hadn't done anything even remotely dangerous, besides his occasional scream (always when Aizawa had his Quirk on). His Voice didn't just get louder - sometimes he accidentally lowered it, or threw it across the room. His pitch changed too, and the bass, and even a few times he'd unknowingly slipped into different voices when the pleasure had been too much for him.

Eraser didn't think he could've possibly fallen harder for Hizashi Yamada, especially considering the circumstances, yet here he was.

How could a Quirk so dangerous be so … loveable…?

Why couldn't they have met sooner? Like, when they were kids? They'd lived in the same apartment building! The only thing that had separated them back then was a ceiling. Maybe he could've convinced the bright eyed Hizashi that he could still be a hero, that his Quirk could be controlled. Maybe he could've helped his family. Maybe he could've helped him get a scholarship so they could've gone to UA together. Maybe Hizashi would've helped him too, would've tried to inspire something more in Shouta's life. Maybe he wouldn't be at the coffee shop, and maybe Hizashi wouldn't be a villain.

Aizawa rocked his hips and listened to the pleasant mewls of the man beneath him as his pace gradually increased. "Sho~"

He wanted this creature so badly. He wanted him every day, every hour, every minute. He wanted to spend every moment loving this man who'd tried to ruin him. It was dumb, and illogical, and impossible, but he'd never wanted anything so badly.

His pace picked up. He wrapped his arms tightly around Hizashi while his teeth worried the skin around the mark on his neck. His hand grasped the villain's length and pumped him along with every thrust.

Shouta's hair flared around him as he pulled his lips away, his eyes burning as he watched Hizashi's face. "Scream my name."

"F-Fuck yeah, _baby_~!" moaned the blond, his hands reaching up to cup his stubbled cheeks. "Sho~! Shouta~! So _good_~!" His thrusts grew more ragged, more desperate for release, while his hand on Hizashi fuelled him until release. As they finished, the blond screamed his name.

A few frantic thrusts and Aizawa joined him in bliss. "Z-Zashi~"

His forehead fell against the blond's chest, spent, but he still kissed every inch of skin he could. They stayed like that for a time, neither wanting to end it, but eventually Shouta pulled himself away.

Hizashi shuddered as he left him, apparently unable to even make his body sit up. "Don't think I could e-even make it t-to the shower~"

Aizawa gently ran his fingers through his hair as he rested his eyes. "Could carry you."

Hizashi laughed a little, "I don't think _either of us_ have the energy. I guess the only thing we can do right now is sleep." Eraserhead exhaled and forced himself to his feet so he could fetch the tissue box from across the room. As exhausted as he was, he didn't want them to sleep covered in their combined fluids. He cleaned them off. It was nice to care for Hizashi like this, and the blond just smiled gently as he did it. "Thanks."

He grunted and put the box to the side, before he carefully reached for Hizashi's hearing-aids. The villain let him remove one, but stopped him when he tried to remove the other.

"I sleep with one in, remember?"

"That's how you get ear infections."

"I know, I've had my fair share."

"Not tonight," he said, his voice sounding deeper than expected. "I'll be your ears." For a moment, Hizashi looked ready to rebuff the comment, but he stopped himself and conceded. Aizawa gently removed the other hearing-aid and placed them both on the bedside table.

Hizashi exhaled. "It's been a fun night."

Aizawa nodded and pulled him against his chest, hoping the action spoke louder than any words. It was the first time they'd slept like this, safe in each other's arms, and the hero had to fight to stay awake for as long as possible. They smelled so nice together, like coffee and cologne, and they fit together so perfectly.

Hizashi wrapped an arm around him too and held him close as they fell asleep with the one they loved.

-x-

In the morning, when Aizawa woke, he was alone. Not even a ghost of foreign warmth remained on the bed as he sat up. He heaved a heavy sigh. Hizashi's clothes were gone, as was his laptop.

It had been a nice night but, he determined, _not _their last. He picked up his second new phone – the blond wasn't the only one who could plan. He found the right number in his contact list and dialled it, not at all surprised when it was answered before the first ring even ended.

"Eraserhead!" called the perky female from the other end of the line. "Got something else for me to tinker with?"

"It's about that laptop I brought in on Monday." Aizawa stood and pulled on his clothes, only to notice a small key on the bedside table.

"The Bat's one? You want me to activate my baby? It's not as good as the one _he _used, but just tell me what you need to find out!"

_I thought about what you said, about repenting. I think I'm going to give mundanity a try._

Hizashi was such a bad liar.

"Okay." He picked up the key and slipped it into his pocket, already having some idea what door it belonged to. "Tell me where Giran's taking him."


	23. Blood (Reprise)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Blood (Reprise)

Even if Hizashi _had_ snored with his Quirk, Shouta would've probably slept through it – he hadn't even woken when Hizashi'd slipped from his arms to gather his things. Man this guy slept like the dead!

He'd dressed, put on his hearing-aids, and grabbed his laptop without waking the hero, although he hadn't risked a shower – he'd have to do that at home. He'd watched Aizawa sleep in an attempt to memorise the sight, before he'd left his spare key on the bedside table. Hizashi wouldn't need his apartment for much longer, and at least he knew the hero would take good care of Boots in his absence.

At last, he'd torn himself from that room. He regretted that they'd never had their fight, yet he was simultaneously relieved by that detail. When he reached his apartment building and stepped inside the elevator, he quietly sang a song he'd once read in a book, suddenly unable to get the words from his head.

_"When I was a young man and very well thought of, I couldn't ask ought what the ladies denied." _He unlocked the door to his apartment, and Boots came bounding over at his return. He'd called Giran yesterday to arrange his return to service, so there was no reason for his home to be attacked anymore, so he'd brought her back there. _"I nibbled their hearts, like a handful of raisins, and I never spoke love, but I knew that I lied."_

He filled up her food bowl as she brushed around his legs, and he quickly wrote up a note for Aizawa, detailing what Boots ate, when she ate, the closest vet, her pet insurance information, and any other small details that crossed his mind about either her or the apartment.

_"But I said to myself, ah they none of them see, the secret I shelter and savour and save." _He moved to the recording booth and typed away on the computer. _"I wait for the one who will see through my seeming, and I'll know when I love by the way I behave."_

He set the computer to automatically air his radio show later in the day. Right, his last show and it was pre-recorded. Such a lame way to give up his dream job…

_"The years drifted over like clouds in the heavens, the ladies went by me like snow on the wind." _He hit enter and eyed the countdown. He could already imagine Aizawa as he listened to it later, in the café, when their final song would play as his sweet voice bid him farewell forever. _"I charmed and I cheated, deceived and dissembled, and I sinned, and I sinned, and I sinned, and I sinned."_

Hizashi ventured to his lab behind the painting, where his Present Mic costume was strewn across a table. Still, he ignored it as he shut down the machines.

_"But I said to myself, ah they none of them know, there's part of me pure, as whisk as a wave._" The lights turned off around him, one by one. He should have his shower next, but then he smelled his hair – coffee and sweat and Shouta – and decided he'd rather forgo it. _"My lady is late, but she'll find I've been faithful, and I'll know when I love by the way I behave."_

He left his costume where it was, only grabbing the orange glasses and his pristine lab coat as he left the dark room. Maybe when he was gone, that Bat-Fan would gut the place, and maybe that didn't sound so bad.

_"At last came a lady, both knowing and tender." _He went to the counter and carefully picked up the plushie Aizawa had won for him on their first date. "_Saying you're not at all what they take you to be."_ Hizashi carried it to the living room, where the barista's things had been left several days ago. "_I betrayed her before she had quite finished speaking." _He set the black cat beside the orange one and pressed them together with a shallow smile._ "And she swallowed cold poison and jumped in the sea."_

He stared longingly at the toys but pulled himself away so he could place his master key on the bench for Aizawa.

_"But I say to myself when there's time for a word, as I gracefully grow more debauched and depraved." _Boots rubbed at his leg, and he smiled sadly as he picked her up and held her one final time. _"Love may be strong, but a habit is stronger." _He carefully placed her on her bed, kissed her on the head, pulled on his lab coat and glasses, and turned off the lights as he left his apartment behind, only taking his laptop with him. _"And I knew when I loved by the way I behaved."_

He stopped outside his closed door and looked around the hallway, where the fight had taken place days ago. The walls still needed repairs.

_"Love may be strong, but a habit is stronger… and I knew when I loved… by the way I behaved."_

The car was waiting for him when he reached the street, and a driver in a white suit opened the door. He sat himself inside and opened the laptop while the car took him to his future. Hizashi spent the time sending emails. He wouldn't need his money anymore, so he transferred it to Aizawa's bank account (another fun detail he'd discovered when he'd bugged his first phone). The man wouldn't stop his barista job because of it, in fact he'd probably never use the money, but Hizashi would give him the option nevertheless.

He was finished long before they reached their destination, so he just stared out the window. Giran's warehouse was now in a different part of town, but that made sense – he moved it every two years to avoid the police tracking him down. Hizashi didn't really care where it was, it wouldn't matter soon enough, so he ended up resting his eyes. He imagined Aizawa finding the key, but being forced to head into work before he could figure out where it belonged. No, this was _Shouta_. He would've instantly known the meaning behind the key, but even so he'd undoubtedly go to work before he went to the apartment that night. He just hoped he listened to the final show: dedicated to his _Dearest Listener._

The car stopped and Hizashi stepped out. The building was tall, unlike the past warehouses Giran had setup in, but this would be to Hizashi's benefit. He was led inside, and the first thing he encountered was a metal detector. The two security men looked him over, and he guessed they'd been told about how 'troublesome' he could be with electronics. "Coat, laptop, glasses and shoes. Those hearing doohickies too."

He crinkled his nose at the prospect of removing his hearing-aids at the behest of these thugs, but he unhappily complied.

"So untrusting," he murmured as he put everything in the box and walked through the metal detector. The machine was silent, but they still felt it necessary to pat him down. "We done?"

Suddenly, a thick hand clamped over his mouth and something sharp dug into his neck.

Everything went black.

-x-

When Hizashi woke, he was tied up in a small room. Across from him was a man in a chair, with a burning cigarette held between his fingers. "Took your time to wake up, Bat… or was it Present Mic?"

Giran.

He was alone but, even though he was tied up, there was no way Giran would've been stupid enough to risk…

His eyes widened in shock.

Strapped around his mouth was a Quirk muzzle.

"Gotta take precautions," the dealer commented wryly as he heaved another breath from the cigarette. His voice sounded uncomfortably quiet. Hizashi moved his head a little, feeling the weight of unfamiliar hearing-aids with the volume set far too low. The smell of smoke was _disgusting_ but he couldn't escape it. "This is when I'd usually say something like 'Let's Talk', but…" He laughed. "It looks like I've left you speechless! Quite ironic really."

His arms were tied behind his back by thick ropes, and his ankles were wrapped up too. He wriggled them, but it was useless. He couldn't stand, even if he'd wanted too, so he just sat there on the ground like some sort of angry caterpillar.

And the muzzle.

The _muzzle_.

It was cold. It clamped his jaws tightly shut and wrapped around his throat to the point where even breathing was difficult. Where were its joints? Around his cheeks. The metal pinched his skin whenever he moved.

Yes, he'd put a muzzle on him.

"I know we've had our differences," said Giran through another puff of smoke, "but I believe we can still come to an agreement that suits us both. I tried asking nicely, I even tried using a bit of innocent blackmail so it wouldn't hurt your pride, but it's come to this. I don't like it when you wound my men, Hizashi – they're expensive. I would've loved to have you working for me happily, but you've caused me quite a bit of trouble."

He'd put a fucking muzzle on him.

"But I've always believed in second chances. I can still give you a position under me, a comfortable life. You'll be highly supervised, of course, and we'll have to remove your vocal cords, but you'll get to do what you love. Look at the bright side! You already know sign language, right?"

He'd put a _FUCKING_ _MUZZLE_ on him.

"And your boyfriend can go on to live his happy little life too. Without you, sadly, but you had your chance. Almost everybody-" Giran paused when something buzzed in his suit pocket, and he stopped his monologue to answer the phone. His face flashed with surprise. "What?" he growled. "Here? Must've tracked him. No way, not his style."

He'd put a **_FUCKING MUZZLE _**on **_HIM._**

"What do I even pay you for?" Giran barked into the phone. "Just get rid of them! I'm busy here! You can handle it!" He hung up the phone and turned back to Hizashi.

**_HE'D_****_ PUT A FUCKING _****_MUZZLE_****_ ON _****_HIM_****_!_**

"Hey, you still listening, Mic?"

HIS PARENTS HAD RATHER GONE **DEAF **THAT PUT A **MUZZLE** ON **HIM! **THEY HAD **_DIED _**BECAUSE OF THAT DECISION! THEY HAD RATHER **_DIED _**THAN PUT A **_MUZZLE _**ON **_HIM _**AND THIS MAN HAD **_PUT A _****_MOTHERFUCKING_********_MUZZLE!_********_ON!_********_HIM!_**

_I don't think you could ever be a hero. There's a switch in you. One moment you're Hizashi… and the next you're a villain, hellbent on destruction._

Hizashi **_screamed_****.**

No sound escaped his mouth, but the muzzle violently vibrated against his face. It bruised his cheeks and choked his neck but he didn't stop.

**_HE _****HAD****_ MUZZLED _****HIM****_ LIKE _****A****_ DOG!_**

Giran stood from the chair, but didn't run – after all, the muzzle was holding. "You keep that up, and you'll break your vocal cords for me. Come on, you didn't let me finish my offer. Just-"

Hizashi slammed the muzzle against the ground. The vibrations from his vocal cords rattled his bones, squeezed his teeth, but he didn't stop. The cold metal tore at his left cheek as he repeatedly pounded it against the reddening floor. Hot blood ran down his face, but he was too blinded by rage to notice, even as it pooled in the mask.

He screamed louder and louder and _louder._

The metal vibrated so violently it was growing hot against his skin.

Blood ran into his mouth, adding fuel to his burning fire.

Giran went to take a step towards him, but…

It happened without warning.

One of the joints…

It finally…

**_!_**

The shockwave was violent. The muzzle shot like a bullet into the wall, weaving lines of ruin in the brickwork. Hizashi and Giran flew back as well. The blond smacked his head and crumpled to the ground, his burning cheek pressed against cold concrete. He was bleeding badly. Red was smeared across his battered face and tangled in his hair and his moustache. It trickled from his nose and from his ears, and from shallow slices in his neck.

He must've looked bad, for even the iron-willed dealer froze at the sight of him. Giran's small eyes made for the door, but Hizashi saw the thought before he moved.

"No escape," he growled, although his voice sounded far, far, _far _away. Everything was ringing. The shoddy hearing-aids had broken. Despite everything, Hizashi's mouth twisted into a cruel red grin. "Run, and I'll bring this _whole fucker down."_

Giran actually _laughed_, an edge of amazement to the sound. Hizashi could barely hear him when he spoke, but the man's exaggerated lip movements made it easy to understand. "I wasn't wrong about you: you _are _a crazy one." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a _gun_. "What if I just killed you now? You gonna yell? You'll never see your hero that way. Let's come to an arrangement. I'm listening."

Hizashi stared down the barrel of the gun, but his grin never faltered. "Shoot me. Fucking do it. _Shoot. Me._"

The man pulled the trigger without hesitation. A small flame burst out the end, harmlessly hanging in mid-air: a lighter. Giran grinned like an embarrassed teenager. "Is this the real reason you came here? You wanted to kill me, thinking that'd save your lover boy? How touching."

"Fuck no." He forced himself to sit up against the wall, although he still couldn't stand with the bindings. "I came to _burn you_, Giran, because you decided to fuck with _me_."

"You're going to drop my building on me? I have hundreds of workers here, some just trying to get by, like you when I picked you up off the streets all those years ago." He put the lighter away. "Besides, you don't have your Directional Speaker. You don't have the power to bring this place down."

Hizashi's shoulders quivered. He looked like a devil. He was laughing, a horrible and sickening and sadomasochistic laugh. His throat felt raw – _was _raw - but the pain was lost to utter glee and the taste of iron. Maybe, right now, he sounded like a devil too. "My speaker makes things easier on my body, yes, and directs the sound, but you really think I _need_ it?" He _laughed._ "The only limit to my voice is my sense of self-preservation. I came here to **die** and I'm taking **you **with me."

Giran sighed, as if he were troubled by the inconvenience. "Eraserhead is here." _That _caught his attention. "I just got the call. He and a bunch of his hero buds are tearing this place apart trying to find you. If you drop the building, you'll kill your hero too. Come on, about an agreement."

Blood rolled down his chin. It was all he could taste, all he could smell, paired by the ache of his entire body. This pain in his cheek, however, anchored him to a single thought, a single image of a miraculous man behind a counter with a gauze pad beneath his right eye.

"If he can't survive a building falling on him, then he's not Eraserhead."

Hizashi inhaled as deep as he could for his swansong.

_Bang._

Hizashi **screamed.**


	24. Expresso

Chapter Twenty-Four

Expresso

Of course, when Hizashi had spoken of repenting and running far away, Aizawa had figured he'd do something stupid like this. No, even_ before_ the blond had told him, it'd been a possibility. Mei had bugged the blond's laptop and, thanks to that detail, they'd tracked Giran's warehouse, while Nemuri had arranged a squad of heroes to come in and take down the illegal costume operation. Only she and Eraserhead knew it was also a rescue mission.

He heard the shockwave from several floors up and instantly raced towards the sound, ignoring every other thug and obstacle in his way. Hizashi was in danger, and Aizawa had to save him, no matter what. However, when he reached the door, her heard the blond say it: _If he can't survive a building falling on him, he's not Eraserhead._

Oh _fuck._

Aizawa put all his strength into kicking down the door.

_Bang._

It flew off its weakened hinges.

White bandages filled the room and wrapped around Hizashi and Giran, dragging the dealer to the floor. Even though the Voice Villain tried to scream, no sound emerged.

Eraserhead stepped inside, chest heaving with effort, his burning eyes set on Hizashi through his goggles. He refused to take his eyes from him, even though the sight alone broke his heart.

His golden hair was tangled and messy as it stuck to his face. Red was running from a deep cut on his cheek and more red was seeping into his coat from slices on his neck. Tying him up with the capture weapon had been superfluous, for he was already tightly restrained.

His emerald eyes were wild.

Eraserhead was in front of him in moments. He pulled the bandages from him and his hands frantically pushed the hair from his face. "Zashi," he said urgently, refusing to look away for even a second. "Hizashi, it's me." He pulled his goggles down so the blond could clearly see his face.

The wild eyes focused on him and a sense of recognition budded and slowly bloomed at their centre. His face was turning purple in places and Aizawa didn't need to be a genius to figure out they'd put a muzzle on him – he'd seen this sort of bruising before. He pressed his sleeve against the wound on his cheek as he tried to staunch the bleeding.

"Sho…" His voice sounded like _gravel_. What had he done? "Let me do this," the villain discordantly begged. "_Please_, let me do this."

Aizawa made the blond look at him, made him look at his mouth as he spoke so he'd understand every word, even if he couldn't hear him. "It's not ending like this. Do you hear me, Zashi? It's not ending like this." The emerald orbs grew glassy. The smell of blood was unbearable. Aizawa's eyes were burning from his Quirk, but if he blinked, for even a second, he'd lose _everything._

"Why…?" asked the ragged voice.

_Because I love you. _

_Because I'm your hero._

_Because you're the only sunshine in my life._

_Because you're the only one who can save me from myself, and I'm the only one who can save you from you._

_Because it was **you**. **You** were the one who made me into a hero. **You** were the boy outside the burning building – our burning building – who I'd never been able to reach. **You** are my one regret, the one mistake that has fuelled my life until this moment, and **until I save you, I'm not going to let it end like this!**_

"Because I haven't made your favourite coffee yet."

Hizashi's eyes widened, and then crinkled. Tears cascaded down his cheeks. Aizawa put their foreheads together, but Hizashi instantly pulled them apart, only to smack them back together. It stung a little. Aizawa buried his fingers in his long blond hair and pressed their faces together as tightly as he could, nose to nose. Hizashi was wracked by laughing sobs. "You're … hopeless," he whispered hoarsely. "So fucking _hopeless_…I hear you, Sho…_I hear you_…"

Aizawa kissed away his tears and finally allowed himself to close his burning eyes. Hizashi leaned up and gently kissed the scar beneath his right eye, no doubt smearing blood on him, but he didn't mind. He reached into his utility belt and pulled out a bandage for the wound on Hizashi's cheek.

"I hate to interrupt, lovebirds," murmured a voice from behind them, "but can you stop before you get too carried away? I _am_ still here." Aizawa placed his other hand on Hizashi's head before he turned to Giran, and he could finally get a view of the small room. Yes, the blond had been muzzled and had somehow broken it off – the remains of it were imbedded in the crumbling wall. Giran had pulled himself into a seated position beside a knocked over chair, but was still perfectly tied up by his capture weapon. "Eraserhead, right? We've never formally met."

Aizawa scowled, but his anger was gone. He felt hollow whenever he wasn't looking at Hizashi. "You're under arrest."

He felt the blond move and he instantly turned back to him, Erasure Quirk active, but he was just grinding his bloodied teeth together. "Kill him," he muttered darkly.

"He's going to jail, where he'll stay for a long time."

"He'll-"

Aizawa placed his hand over his mouth, effectively silencing him. "Stop talking. He's going to jail. You might be my one exception, Zashi, but I _am_ a pro-hero. This isn't for debate."

He removed his hand and Hizashi tried to speak again, but Giran beat him to it. "Or, third option, you could let me go." Their eyes fell on the dealer and he grinned back. "Let me escape, and I'll wipe your slates. You'll never hear from me again and you can have your happy ending. Of course, if I get taken in, I'll have to talk about the Bat's true identity, and he'll probably be imprisoned too, so…"

The blond opened his mouth to say something, but Aizawa silenced him again. Undoubtedly, he was trying to tell him to refuse the criminal's deal, that he'd never keep a promise like that, but he would've been preaching to the choir.

Aizawa turned his attention to undoing the restraints on his lover, even as he continued to speak to the dealer. "Send as many thugs as you want after me. They can keep you company in prison, cause that's where you'll be staying. The streets will be crimefree before I ever let you defeat me. I promised someone special that, until he kills me with his own two hands, I'm not allowed to die."

"Sho…"

Aizawa growled low and messed up Hizashi's hair even more. He freed his hands and as soon as he did, the hero signed aggressively at him. _'Rest. Your. Voice. I know you love to talk, but now is not the time and, as relieved as I am, I am still angry at you for pulling this stunt. If you need to say something or you need me to say something for you, sign.'_

Hizashi didn't look pleased and he aggressively signed back, _'I didn't exactly want to be rescued.'_

_'Well I'm rescuing you so you can suck it up.'_

_'It might be the blood loss talking, but I love you when you get this mad.'_

He rolled his eyes and worked on untying the restraints on his lover's legs. "There's nothing you can offer me, Giran, and if anything happens to anyone around me and I think you're somehow involved, I'll have you immediately sent to Tartarus."

The criminal laughed: it started as a low chuckle, but snowballed into a roaring mirth that echoed around the small room. "It was worth a try! Forget it. I won't be in jail for long, but sending more thugs after you would be too expensive – I wasted enough time and money on you both already. Besides, I now owe you a debt, Eraserhead. You've certainly got your hands full with a boyfriend like that. He's a _screamer_."

Hizashi opened his mouth but a warning look from Aizawa made him scowl and quickly sign, '_Tell him he's a dickbag and he should be given the death penalty just for being so butt ugly.'_

Eraserhead exhaled. "Hizashi says you're a bag of phalluses and he hopes you get the death penalty for being less-than-attractive." He helped his lover to his feet, paused to check the bandage was tied firmly enough around his face, and then hauled Giran over his shoulder. He pulled on his scarf and it wrapped around the dealer's mouth, successfully silencing him, before he turned to Hizashi and urgently signed, '_There are some ambulances outside. I'll have to help the others once I get you and Giran out. Get treated and I'll meet you back at the apartment. You owe me ramen. We're going to have a long talk too, so rest your voice.'_

Hizashi trembled as he sluggishly signed, '_Recover my hearing-aids while you're off saving the day, Hero.'_

-x-

Everything had been okay. He'd been treated and cleaned up enough to walk the streets without scaring anyone. Aizawa had lent him his wallet, since Hizashi's had been taken by Giran, and he knew he had to get groceries and arrive home to his apartment before Eraserhead finished up. As he walked the streets, he'd been unable to focus on anyone else – it was as if he walked amongst silhouettes. His hearing didn't help. He'd removed the busted hearing-aids but hadn't waited on Eraserhead to find his before he'd left – the presence of heroes (who weren't Eraserhead) made him nervy.

He'd managed to catch a train, although he'd had to stare at the map for a solid half-hour to work out a route, a task that should've taken a minute at most. His mind told him he was in shock, but he tried to convince himself he was just tired. Shopping at his local market also posed issues, but after two hours he was back outside his apartment complex with the groceries. His feet carried him inside the empty elevator and he pressed the button to his floor once. It didn't move. He remembered he had to press it four times and the elevator finally rose.

He exited the cube and glanced around the empty hallway. The walls hadn't been repaired yet. Maybe no one knew the walls had been damaged. Yes, Giran's men had probably escaped without getting caught and no one must've known about the scuffle. It didn't really matter.

He made his way to his front door and realised he _didn't have a key_.

_That_ was what drove him over the threshold.

He dropped the bags and crumpled to the floor as reality hit him.

He'd been so accepting of his death, so sure that he'd never see his apartment door again, that this didn't feel real. Maybe he _had_ died, and this was all some weird heaven his brain had cooked up for him, one where his hero had stepped in to save him at last. Hizashi had never pictured himself as a damsel in distress, but maybe it was some wild fantasy he'd harboured in his subconsciousness for years and years.

But here he was, stuck outside his apartment without a way to get in.

If this_ had_ been heaven, Aizawa would've remembered to give him the key. Damn, that man was hopeless. He'd given him his own wallet so he could buy the groceries, yet hadn't give him a _key _to the _apartment_!

Maybe it was hell. Of course he'd gone to hell, people like him didn't go to heaven!

No, this couldn't be hell either – that woman in the ambulance had used her Quirk to heal him as best she could. His cheek still stung and a gauze pad now sat under his left eye, but she'd fixed up his bruising and the wounds on his neck. His throat was raw, but it was only painful when he spoke and swallowed. If this was hell, certainly the 'overseers' would've preferred him in _constant _agony.

He wasn't in heaven. He wasn't in hell.

He was in a**_ hallway_**, because he didn't have a **_fucking key_**!

Hizashi covered his face as tears welled up, but he tried to fight them desperately. He'd been prepared to die! To repent! He'd been so ready!

Yet here he was. He was still breathing and now he had to come to terms with life. He tried to determine the tumultuous emotions rushing through him. Frustration, anger, fury, rage, ire – no, dammit, not just synonyms! What else was he feeling?

Sorrow, confusion, relief, and…

_Because I haven't made your favourite coffee yet._

Hizashi's shoulders trembled. Even though it hurt, he couldn't stop himself from laughing as more tears rolled down. That _hopeless_ idiot. Of all the things he could've said, he'd said _that _and it had somehow _worked_. He was a complete disaster, and Hizashi felt painful love course through him at the thought. Aizawa was a miracle – _his_ miracle.

His _bridge_.

The tears continued. His laughs turned to sobs.

-x-

Eraserhead changed out of his hero costume before he took to the streets – the sun was still up, but Nemuri had sent him off early from the operation so he could take care of Hizashi. He tried not to worry about leaving him alone, especially after what'd happened - Present Mic wasn't someone who'd die for nothing – but he still wanted to reach him as soon as possible. However, he paused at the sight of the coffeeshop, the Extroverted Hermit, buzzing with activity. When he looked at his watch, he realised why.

DJ Yamada's final show.

Hizashi had still aired it? Maybe he was doing it live, although he hoped that wasn't the case – his throat had been badly damaged. Aizawa had spoken to the doctor about it after he'd gone, and the story she'd told him had been shocking – Hizashi had broken the muzzle using his Quirk and blunt force combined. He must've known the weakness of Quirk muzzles: their weakest parts were the joints. Still, she'd told him he'd damaged his vocal cords, and the wound on his left cheek would undoubtedly scar.

Hizashi Yamada: a brilliant mind and an incredible Quirk and one hell of a psychopath.

He was an amazing creature and Eraserhead still couldn't decide just how furious he was at the blond for doing something so completely _stupid_.

While he'd been lost in thought, his feet had carried him to the café, but he'd stopped himself just before entering. It was his day off (of this job, anyway) so why…?

He heard DJ Yamada's voice and a gentle calm washed over him. He walked inside and stood by the door – he'd just been in time for the show's ending.

_"Yo, to all my Dear Listeners out there, I just gotta say how a-ma-zing it has been to be your host on this show." _The voice alone told him it must've been the pre-recording. Was Hizashi still planning to give up the show? _"DJ Yamada has enjoyed every question, every song, every moment, yo! I hope my advice reached you, just as your love and support reached me. It really got me thinking, about how I'm the coolest man alive, and I had an epiphany, yo! You know, kids, like a realisation! An idea! What if – and this is gonna shock you – I'm **not **the coolest man alive?"_

The crowd in the coffeeshop giggled, and some were already tearing up. Aizawa went to the counter and leaned against it. "Hey," he said to his co-worker, "a flat-white and an expresso to go."

She beamed at him, "You're okay?"

"Family issues, might need tomorrow off too… One second." He pulled his backpack off and removed Hizashi's wallet. He'd given his to Hizashi so he could pay for groceries, but had managed to retrieve his confiscated things before he'd left Giran's building. The blond wouldn't mind if he spent a little of his money on some (employee-discounted) coffee. While finding the blond's cash, he stumbled upon his loyalty card with eight stamps. "Here, a stamp too."

She nodded, obviously recognising the wallet but not commenting on it as she went about with the order. Next visit, Hizashi would get a free medium drink.

_"You heard right," _continued the show, _"what if I'm not the coolest man alive? You see, Dear Listeners, I met a man recently, and he was cooler than me in every way possible!" _Aizawa's eyes widened in surprise and he turned to stare at the nearest speaker. _"So, who is this mystery cool guy vying for my crown? Is he a killer DJ too, yo, with a million hits online? Is he a world-famous Pro-Hero with a Quirk stronger than All-Might's? Or is he a multi-billionaire with tattoos and bling and a cannot-be-fudged attitude on life? No, Dear Listeners. You see, the coolest man alive is a tired barista at a small coffeeshop who works too damn hard. He's not popular, or rich, or anything like that, but he's handsome, and witty, and funnier than he looks, even though he thinks my jokes are lame, yo."_

DJ Yamada laughed after saying that line and Aizawa felt _small_. In Hizashi's mind, this had been his farewell, and even the stoic pro-hero Eraserhead was torn between listening to it and running home to the man he knew was anxiously waiting for him. The only reason he stayed was for their coffee.

_"But I imagine I'm the only one who thinks that about him, but doesn't that make it … special, yo? I got to thinking, maybe we all have someone in our lives like that. A parent, or a friend, or a lover, yo, someone who you look at every day and think to yourself, 'Dang, they are the _coolest_ dawg ever! What'd I ever do to get this sick person in my life?' And maybe, just maybe, someone looks at you like that too. Maybe someone looks at you and smiles, and thinks, 'Yo, you're the coolest person alive, and I don't think I could live without you'." _There was a pause – a hesitation – that broke his heart._ "Isn't that nice, Dear Listeners? So, don't be sad that I'm going, cause you'll still have your coolest person alive and I'll still have mine. Just remember how lucky you've been to ever have someone like me in your life … cause I'll remember you, no matter what."_

"Here Aizawa," said his co-worker as she offered him his coffee. "Sounds like he's talking about you, doesn't it? I wonder if he ever visited."

Shouta took the coffee but, even though he told himself to leave, he had to hear how it ended.

_"Well, it's time to wrap up for the final time, and we have time for just one more song. I dedicate our finale to the coolest man alive. I'm going to miss you, my Dearest Listener."_

The voice faded into music and then into another voice, one he'd once woken to while Hizashi had made him the best breakfast he'd ever had. _"We're all alone, no chaperone can get our number, the world's in slumber! Let's misbehave!"_

Aizawa raced from the café with coffee in hand and made it to the apartment building in record time. He hit the button four times, as he'd seen Hizashi do, and when he stepped out the elevator he immediately stopped.

Hizashi Yamada, the coolest man alive, was curled up on the front doorstep, asleep.


	25. Flat White

Chapter Twenty-Five

Flat-White

Fingers were in his hair, gently stroking his locks as Hizashi awoke, but he wasn't on the doorstep anymore – he was in his bed, pressed against his man and his cat. A gentle hand cupped his chin and tilted his face up to look at Shouta Aizawa. The man was tired and concerned, but so obviously relieved. He said something quietly, with two lip movements the blond could easily discern, especially since the first sound was a hard 'Z': _Zashi._

Arms wrapped tightly around him and held him close, and he could feel the purring vibration that was undoubtedly Boots, squished but content between them. The hero's face pressed against the villain's: forehead to forehead, nose to nose, gauze pad to scar. Everything touched except their lips and that somehow made the action all the sweeter.

Hizashi cupped Shouta's face too and held him in place. They stayed like that for a while, gently inhaling the other's scent and basking in the contact, before Aizawa ultimately pulled away. He reached for the bedside table, retrieved his recovered hearing-aids and offered them to Hizashi.

Hizashi sorted out the right while Aizawa helped with the left and, although he didn't need the assistance, he knew it was just the other man trying to be affectionate. The villain tuned them, went to say something, and was stopped by a gentle kiss on the lips.

It was soft and sweet, and their foreheads were connected once again. "Sign," said the hero, his voice huskier than usual. It was the nicest sound he'd ever heard. "Your throat was damaged."

Hizashi nodded against him and pulled away so he could sign, '_It'll be okay. My vocal cords heal fast. It's happened before.'_

Aizawa's expression was a warring mixture of being impressed, yet entirely unimpressed simultaneously. "You've _screamed _off a Quirk muzzle before?"

Hizashi snorted, although it hurt. '_No, but I was the biggest cry baby when I was a kid. I ripped my cords a lot. They're not like an ordinary person's. Give it a day or two and I'll be fine.'_

"Fine." He put a hand on his leg and reassuringly squeezed it. "I love you, and that's why I'm going to yell at you now."

He exhaled heavily and defeatedly signed, '_I'm ready.'_

Aizawa stood up with Boots in his arms and carefully carried her out the room so she wouldn't get frightened by the overdue scolding. Oh man, maybe he should've still screamed, just to avoid this…

The hero closed the door and leaned against it as he composed himself. "Zashi… What the _hell _were you _thinking_?" His Erasure Quirk flared without warning, his eyes glowing like demonic portals while his hair floated around him ethereally. Damn he was hot when he got this pissed… "You could've _died! _No, no, worse than that, you _intended _to _die!_" If Aizawa had worn his capture gear, he would've undoubtedly tied him just to punctuate the accusation.

Hizashi pursed his lips and quickly signed, '_In my defence, you were the one throwing around words like 'repent', Hero.'_

"That _wasn't_ what I meant by that, and you know it!" he growled. "How could you possibly think I meant it that way?"

_'You told me off for running! For becoming Present Mic!'_

"I know I don't always act like it, Zashi, but I'm a _pro-hero_. Arresting Giran is one thing. Killing him, hundreds of other people, and _yourself_ is **_not_ **a way to repent! You could've turned yourself in, could've helped bring Giran down from the side of good! I know it's not perfect, but killing isn't an alternative, especially if you die too!"

He looked down and sluggishly signed, _'Our third option.'_

Shouta was silent as he processed the signs. "What does that have to do with _anything_?"

_'First option: I kill you, and I become a true villain. Second option: you defeat me, and I'm sent to prison forever.' _He inhaled deeply and forced himself to sign, '_Third option: I die and you live on.'_

Aizawa stared at him incredulously, before he squeezed his eyes shut and thumped his head back against the door. His hair fell in his face. "…Hizashi Yamada… How are you so smart, yet still so incredibly stupid?" He brought his hands up to rub his face, heaving out heavy sigh after heavy sigh as he tried to figure out how to word whatever he wanted to say.

Before he could, Hizashi whispered through his burning throat, "That's our _real_ third option." Wow, his voice _did _sound bad. Aizawa uncovered his face and looked at him with those tired eyes, so the blond could sign to him. _'I'm still going to fight you. Giran would've told them my identity. They'll be looking for me, and they're gonna find me if I don't do anything. You're not at your best yet, but we're running out of time.'_

There it was again, that defeated expression. "There must be other options."

_'Option four: I run away for real. We don't fight, but we never see each other again.' _Aizawa didn't look pleased by that, but Hizashi continued._ 'Option five: I go into hiding. We don't fight. We might secretly meet up once a year for a night of fun, until one of us stops trusting the other and never shows up and that'll be the end. Option six: we pull a good, old fashioned Shakespeare! I'll be Romeo and you'll be Juliet! Maybe we'll have more luck.'_

"Why am _I _Juliet in your Shakespeare fantasy?"

_'Because if either of us would be willing to sleep in a bug-infested crypt for several days, it would be you.'_

"…You really thought that one through." Aizawa sat beside him on the bed, having deflated a little. "Option seven: you turn yourself in, and I visit you every day in prison."

Hizashi smiled a little. '_With your busy schedule? You'd die from exhaustion in a week.'_

"Point taken." Aizawa returned the look with his own sad smile. "Option eight: we live in the woods and survive on bugs."

The blond made a face, _'Oh my god, I'd rather prison! Option nine: we become travelling theatre actors, take on fake names and learn to speak with Australian accents.'_

Shouta sniggered. "Ten: we open a restaurant in Ohio."

_'Option eleven: we swap lives. You be the Voice Villain Present Mic and I'll be the pro-hero Eraserhead. No one will ever know the difference! Think I'd suit black hair?'_

Aizawa exhaled heavily and shook his head, his smile falling. "I'm mad at you," he grumbled as he squeezed his leg.

Hizashi slowly signed, _'You should be.'_

"I'm not arresting you formally, but I'm putting you under house arrest until your vocal cords have healed. I'll take tomorrow off, but they'll need me at work on Saturday, not to mention I'll need to go on patrol. Can heroes track you here?"

_'Not easily, but Giran found me. If he tells them, I'm screwed, but I'm guessing we'll have a few days before it's an issue. How did you track me?'_

"I had your biggest fan bug your laptop. She based it off the one from my old phone. She tried to explain how it wasn't _exactly_ like yours, but she lost me after the third time she spoke in binary code." He ran his hand through Hizashi's blond hair. Aizawa still looked so tired. "Three days." Hizashi tilted his head and Eraserhead gently kissed his right cheek. "We'll fight in three days and whatever happens will happen."

Hizashi felt cold at the unexpected deadline, but nodded nevertheless. _'Three days. I'll prepare, so you better be prepared too. Until then, expect three days of cooked meals, plenty of sleep and mind-blowing sex!'_

Aizawa suddenly put an arm around him, trapping him in a playful headlock. "We're not having sex until your voice is healed. You better not slack on preparing either. The moment our fight begins, you're a villain, and I'm the pro-hero hellbent on stopping you for the good of the world."

He smiled, but then realisation struck. Giran was in prison, but Eraserhead still hadn't arrested him… No, he was talking about fighting in three days, which meant…

He pushed against him lightly and Aizawa released him from the headlock so he could sign. _'You're not arresting me?'_

Aizawa exhaled and gripped his shoulders, ensuring they were facing each other. "Hizashi… I want to talk about the fire, and your parents. Is that okay…?" His chest twisted, but he nodded – Shouta deserved that much. "Did they have flashing fire alarms?"

Hizashi looked down as he signed. _'Yes and no. We couldn't afford them, but I made them some out of scrapped electronics. I thought they worked, but they must've malfunctioned…' _His fault.

"Zashi, there's something I've been meaning to tell you for a while now, and you deserve to know. My … mother died in a fire too."

Hizashi stared, but his hands seemed to move on their own. _'When?'_

"I was fifteen," he admitted, his voice gentle. "My parents were divorced, so I lived with my mother in a rundown apartment building. I had just got into UA high school - General Studies. I came home and fell asleep with the heater on, but while I was napping it caught fire. I didn't wake until the room was burning. My mother rushed in…" He closed his eyes, as if he were imagining back to that day. "Part of the ceiling collapsed, but she pushed me out the way, only to get caught under it herself… I panicked. My Quirk couldn't help her and it was too heavy for me to move, so I ran to the stairwell, where people were escaping, but the only ones who paid me any attention were the married couple from the floor above."

Hizashi's stomach dropped.

"They ran into my burning apartment with me and tried to get her out, despite how impossible it was. Even though they'd never even met her, they didn't stop trying to save her." He opened his eyes, but his gaze was unfocused. "My mother begged me to escape while I could and they forced me to go. I ran, and they stayed, and they…" His pupils focused on Hizashi Yamada. "As you said, there were … _three_ casualties…"

Before the blond could respond, warm arms wrapped around him and pulled him against the man's chest. He could feel Shouta's heart beneath shirt and skin, beating steadily, even when his own was a hammer.

"Hizashi… They died trying to help my mother, even though she was beyond saving. They died _heroes_."

It wasn't a welcomed revelation: it was a knife to the gut.

His parents hadn't died because of his Quirk, or because of his tech, but they hadn't died heroes either, like Aizawa claimed. They'd died _trying _to be heroes. They'd chosen to die beside a woman they didn't even know rather than be selfish for their son's sake. They'd left him with nothing, with no one, and they'd done it willingly.

If he'd known, would it have changed anything? Yes.

Would he still be a villain? Definitely.

That anger he'd turned on the world, he would've turned directly onto heroes. If he'd known sooner, the system would've already been in flames.

Aizawa was to blame. If he'd-… No. He couldn't even pretend to blame Shouta.

Did knowing this now make any difference? No. So, why had Aizawa thought it so crucial for him to know?

The man kissed around his ear, before he whispered, "I wished I'd met the boy on the floor above mine. I'd forgotten the sound of his voice, and I don't know how. He was always loud, and stayed up late, but I got so used to the sound of him it … became calming. I used to think he had a lot of friends, since sometimes I could hear many voices up there, but now … I don't think he ever had anyone else. He talked to himself about studying, about books, about everything, _pretending _he had company - the kid couldn't even listen to a radio show without responding to every comment the host made. Most nights, I fell asleep to that voice. The floor was so thin. Just one press on an elevator, one knock on a door, and I could have bridged our gap… I wish I'd met you sooner, Hizashi Yamada, so I could've been a stronger bridge."

Hizashi trembled against him and buried his face in the crook of his neck.

When he was fifteen, he'd once seen a boy in a UA uniform with black hair, like Shouta's. He'd found him asleep in the elevator, and Hizashi'd almost dared to wake him, but had stopped himself. His Voice Quirk was **dangerous**, after all. He'd ruined his own hearing, along with his parents'. If the kid was in UA it meant he had a bright, sunny future ahead, and Hizashi hadn't wanted to ruin it.

Yamada had left the boy to sleep and had never seen him again…

Fourteen years later, and he'd planned to visit a café titled the 'Extroverted Hermit'. However, he'd glanced through the window and seen the handsome barista, and had decided to put it off. He hadn't recognised the worker, but something about him had made Hizashi _want_ to meet him, so of course he'd avoided the place for as long as possible. One year after that, he'd planned his big Present Mic debut. He'd decided to go inside at long last in pre-celebration, and the barista Aizawa had been worth the wait.

He'd planned to die with Giran. He had _wanted_ to die – a violent end for a violent Quirk. However, their fight was still inevitable, just as it'd been from the moment they'd met. They could have no happy ending after all Hizashi had done.

Eraserhead and Present Mic could not exist simultaneously in this world: one had to go.

"I'm not going to arrest you yet, Zashi. This happened because I wasn't strong enough to save the person I loved, but I'm not a one-trick-pony anymore: I'm a pro-hero. If I locked you away now, you'd still be a villain. I'm going to save you, even if that means we have to fight."

In three days, everything would finally end, one way or another.

"Sho," he whispered through his hoarse throat and pulled away so he could sign. _'For the next three days, let's have your option three.'_

Aizawa deflated and gently kissed him on the forehead. "Come on, I bought you a coffee, although it'll be cold."

Hizashi smiled and quickly signed, _'I'll make us that ramen I've been planning to make for forever. You liked bamboo and celery, right?'_

He was surprised when Aizawa flicked him on the forehead. "It's sad…"

_'What is?'_

"That you think I'm the coolest man alive." Oh, so he'd heard his show…

_'Well you are.' _Hizashi smiled tenderly and ran his hands through Aizawa's hair, before he finally pulled away. _'I'm starving and suffering from caffeine withdrawal.'_

They finally got up and exited the bedroom, only to find Boots waiting for him. Hizashi picked her up and cradled his cat, while Aizawa had the foresight to fiddle with the speaker on the bench. After a bit of finicky pressing, he managed to set it to play. Hizashi puts Boots on the couch and set to work making them their ramen dinner while Aizawa heated up his coffee.

The speaker softly sang in the background, a happy old-timey song in English, although he knew the sound was deceiving. The song was sad: he knew the lyrics well.

**_The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms. But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken, and I hung my head and I cried._**

He sipped the flat-white, but he could tell Aizawa hadn't made it. Even so, after going several days without his fix, he downed it happily as he boiled water and made up the stock. Shouta was given the insanely tedious task of boiling noodles.

**_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away._**

Hizashi showed him how to thinly slice the pork, and Shouta appeared interested in learning. At least he knew how to hard-boil the eggs, but even if he was a hopeless cook, the blond enjoyed his company and found himself laughing throughout.

**_I'll always love you and make you happy, if you will only say the same. But if you leave me, to love another, you'll regret it all someday._**

Soon enough, everything was ready. Aizawa fed a can of cat food to Boots, who'd been affectionately rubbing against their legs throughout their cooking session, and Hizashi set their homemade ramen on the table. As soon as it was down, Aizawa took his hand and tugged him into a tender kiss.

**_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you, please don't take my sunshine away._**

Shouta pulled away. "It smells good."

Hizashi grinned and signed quickly, _'Must be the cyanide.'_

The hero rolled his eyes, but was smiling very tenderly, and when they sat down to eat, Hizashi pressed their legs together. It was like a scene from a happy ending, but things for them were far from over.

**_You told me once, dear, you really loved me, and no one else could come between, but now you've left me and love another, you have shattered all my dreams._**

Aizawa tried it and for just a moment, he looked like that boy in the elevator, with a bright, sunny future just in view. "It's better than the vending machine."

**_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are grey, you'll never know dear, how much I love you…_**

Hizashi smiled tenderly, but there was a budding hollowness in his heart. _'I'm glad.' _

Their fight was inevitable.

**_Please don't take my sunshine away._**

That night fifteen years ago, the world had burned, but from the ashes had emerged a hero and a villain. In three days, everything would end as it began: in fire and tears and regret.


	26. Hot Cocoa

Chapter Twenty-Six

Hot Cocoa

Their shower experience was different this time. Firstly, Aizawa tended to the wound on Hizashi's face. He carefully removed the gauze pad and checked it over with a critical eye, tilting the blond's head in several directions to get a better look. "Seems okay," he said at last as he opened a water-resistant band-aid. "Will scar though."

Hizashi sighed and woefully signed, '_My beautiful, beautiful face will never be the same, but at least we'll match.' _He raised his hand to cup Aizawa's right cheek so he could run his thumb across his scar. _'If only you'd given it to me…'_

An uncertain feeling welled in his stomach. Aizawa wasn't sure he liked the idea of leaving a cruel mark like_ that _on Hizashi's body, especially on his face. It was a paradoxical thought, really, considering in three days he'd have to hurt him, but he didn't dwell on that. In the fight, if he had any thoughts like that, he'd hesitate.

If he hesitated, he'd die.

Shouta carefully placed the band-aid over the wound, ensuring no water would reach it. "I'll be the one who helped treat it."

Hizashi was surprised, but then smiled at him lovingly - the hero wished he could remember that look forever. _'That doesn't sound like a bad idea. You're sure it won't get' _– Hizashi used a sign he didn't know – _'?'_

With the context, he guessed he'd said infected, and he nodded. "It won't get infected, but tomorrow you should let it air out." Aizawa was the scar expert.

_'Hey, how do you know sign language anyway?' _The blond questioned from the blue.

"I took it at UA as an elective subject," he said as he scratched the back of his head. "I've always been a visual learner, and I thought it'd help me be a hero. Communication is essential in all forms."

The blond nodded, clearly content with the answer, and tugged silently at his shirt – they were both ready for a shower.

Aizawa let him remove his shirt before he removed the blond's. The love mark Shouta had been trying to leave on Hizashi's neck was gone, no doubt healed along with his other bruises, but it wasn't such a loss now the blond had another mark to remember him by – one he could look at and remember how Aizawa had tried to heal him.

Their fight was inevitable. Eraserhead could see that now. Hizashi wasn't going to give up on being a villain, as he'd hoped, and as much as he loved him, Shouta Aizawa was still a hero. A memory surfaced of Present Mic sadistically snapping bones in a hallway, and his face must've grown disturbed, for Hizashi's hands gently cupped his coarse cheeks. They locked eyes – black and green – and Aizawa relaxed.

As much as he loved Hizashi, as much as he wanted to save him and to be saved, his job was to save the world from this unstoppable villain he adored. He'd sacrifice himself for the chance to save them both though, and if he couldn't stop Hizashi's brilliant mind and incredible Quirk, Nemuri would in his stead.

Unbeknownst to Present Mic, no matter what option came to be, he'd be imprisoned. That would be the final betrayal, his petty revenge for all the times the villain had betrayed him in the past.

_'You're still wearing it?'_

Aizawa tilted his head and glanced down at the silver necklace he wore. "Haven't taken it off."

Hizashi fiddled with the small H, but didn't remove it. H for Hero. _'I'm glad.'_

"You sure it isn't a tracker?"

Hizashi took Aizawa's hand and curled their pinkies together in a silent promise.

They were soon naked, and he watched intently as Hizashi removed his hearing-aids, setting them aside to clean later. His chest swelled at the sight of the defenceless man. How easy would it be to tie him up and arrest him right then? Perhaps not as easy as it should've been. Even if he did use his Quirk on the blond, he'd have to blink sometime, and in that one second, he'd lose everything.

Three days to live their third option. He wasn't going to waste them.

Aizawa was the one lost in thought this time. A soft hand pressed against his back, halting all brain functionality for a good three seconds, until he was guided into the hot shower. The water felt amazing. At the Capsule Hotel it'd always been a few degrees below just-right, but the shower here was perfect, and they both had the same temperature preference.

Last time they'd showered together, they hadn't interacted much, but now he planned to make the most of this chance. He signed to Hizashi, _'I wash your back?'_

The blond looked uncertain about it, but nodded, and Aizawa lightly massaged soap into his skin. Hizashi leaned into his touches. He was impressed to feel some muscle as his hands glided over his supple body; the blond wasn't as strong as him, but he wasn't weak by any means, especially for someone who was a long-ranged fighter.

In their fight, it would be wise for Hizashi to keep as much distance between them as possible, or else he'd lose to Aizawa's hand-to-hand techniques. He was almost (_almost_) looking forward to seeing what Present Mic would do.

He finished washing his back and offered to wash his long hair too, but Hizashi shook his head and signed, _'I'll wash you.' _Aizawa nodded and the villain's lithe hands were on him, tracing every muscle and scar. The darkhaired man closed his eyes and wished again that they'd met far sooner than this.

Two boys outside a burning building, one with long black hair and one with short blond hair, both lost amongst the chaos of firefighters and families. That boy with glasses had been bawling, yet he'd clamped his mouth so tightly with his hand he must've left bruises. Shouta had seen him, had felt his anguish, but had been too deep in his own despair to reach out a hand and bridge the chasm between them. He'd regretted that moment, so much so that one day later he'd made up his mind to join the hero course.

He'd become Eraserhead and had vowed to never be that weak again.

He felt Hizashi's lips press against his shoulder blade, and he turned around, only to have a bottle of shampoo pressed into his palm. _'Fine', _relented the blond, _'you can wash my hair, but I'm going to be very controlling over how much' _– a sign he didn't know – _'you use. Too much and it'll be oily.' _Oh, he must've signed 'shampoo'.

He nodded and Hizashi showed him the perfect amount, before Aizawa affectionately rubbed it into his blond hair. It smelled nice, leaps above his own cheap stuff, but Hizashi was happy to return the favour and wash his hair for him too.

He could've gotten used to this.

-x-

They sat on the couch together, watching some cheap movie with CGI so bad Hizashi painfully cackled every time it came on screen, even as he busily towel-dried Shouta's hair. He didn't bother to sign much, just tapped twice on the hero's shoulder and eagerly pointed at the horrible alien designs, or the obvious green-screen effects, or the obvious typos in the subtitles. Aizawa didn't seem pleased by how much Hizashi was hurting his throat by laughing, but he didn't reprimand him or demand they put on something less 'funny'.

Hizashi succeeded in his small hair-drying quest, and cuddled against the hero's chest to watch the movie. It was nice – so stupidly nice. Even Boots was curled up at their feet, already asleep.

This was sweet, and perfect, and if he'd died with Giran he would've never known this moment.

Three days of this was preferable to nothing. A lifetime would've been nicer, but they'd been beyond the point of no return before they'd even met.

Some two-dimensional character on the screen had their head blown off, and although it was supposed to be a dramatic moment, Hizashi laughed. The effects were so _bad!_ Even Aizawa exhaled beneath him, an act – he was beginning to learn – akin to a laugh when it came from the tired man. Hizashi tapped twice on his shoulder to make sure he knew _just how hilarious it was_, and the barista tapped him twice on the back to signal his understanding.

The movie eventually finished, just as Aizawa was beginning to doze beneath him, and Hizashi nuzzled against his neck. "Sho?" he whispered. The quiet sound didn't grate his throat as much as it would've earlier.

Aizawa stirred and a hand ran through his long blond hair. "Zashi," he said back.

Hizashi couldn't keep himself from smiling as he pulled away and took his hand in his. Those tired eyes looked him over – clearly the man would've had no qualms sleeping right there, but the villain still tugged him to his feet so they could move to the bed.

They didn't disturb Boots as they turned off the lights and left her to catnap. Hizashi sat on the end of the bed and removed one of his hearing-aids.

"Both," said Aizawa succinctly, his voice oozing with exhaustion.

Hizashi rolled his eyes, '_You'd sleep through it if I snored. My Quirk might-'_

Aizawa sat beside him and stopped him from signing by holding his hands. "If it isn't loud enough to wake me, then it isn't loud enough to be dangerous. Zashi … your Quirk is … incredible." The villain's body went rigid. "You control it better than you give yourself credit for, especially without any formal training." Hizashi shook his head and tried to pull his hands away, to sign at him how wrong he was, but Aizawa didn't let him. "You could've been a great hero."

No, the night had been so perfect, why was he ruining it? He tried to speak, but Aizawa pulled him into a firm kiss to stop him.

Dangerous. Murderous. Unstoppable. Destructive. Broken. Villainous.

_Annoying._

But Eraserhead hadn't lied when he'd used the word 'Incredible'.

Aizawa pulled away and moved Hizashi's hair behind his ear, but didn't touch the device without his consent. "Both off?" A shuddering breath wracked through him, but he forced himself to weakly nod. That calloused yet gentle hand carefully removed his remaining hearing-aid and the world grew far. He pressed their foreheads together, but Hizashi couldn't relax, even as they laid down on the bed.

Fingers brushed through his long hair, and he couldn't keep himself from inhaling Aizawa's warm scent. As much as he hated the vulnerability, the trust, the vibration of their heartbeats together, he was quickly lulled to sleep.

-x-

In the morning, Hizashi was still asleep in his arms. He was snoring very quietly – impossibly quietly - and Aizawa's mouth twitched a little. The blond had once mentioned he'd had complete control over his voice's volume, meaning he could make it earsplittingly loud or…

Did Hizashi subconsciously _lower _his volume while he slept? Damn, the man was an amazing disaster.

He glanced at the clock to find it was just before 5am, but he reminded himself he'd taken the day off. Sleeping in with his lover in his arms didn't sound like such a bad idea, until Hizashi began to stir. In response, Aizawa held him closer.

The blond grunted and looked at his face sleepily with those large green eyes, "Sho?" His voice sounded dramatically better than it had just hours before.

"Sleep in," he murmured as he pressed his face against blond hair. Hizashi smelt so nice.

"Can't hear you, moron," said the blond, a bit of gravel returning to his voice. He tried to pull away, but the hero held him tightly with one arm and grabbed one of his hearing-aids with the other. Hizashi rolled his eyes but put it in so he could hear his boyfriend.

"Spend today in bed," Aizawa said without letting him go.

Hizashi sighed heavily, "What if we get hungry?"

"Delivery."

"Someone will have to answer the door to get it."

"Spend _most _of today in bed."

Hizashi sighed again, and gently pushed him. "Let me up."

Aizawa relented, and the blond left the room. Although he was disappointed by the disappearance of his lover, he wasn't going to pass up the chance to sleep in, and at least the bed was still warm. He closed his eyes, but opened them again when the door re-opened. Hizashi returned with Boots, his glasses and a book in hand, and Aizawa was surprised when he crawled back into bed.

The cat snuggled at their feet, purring happily at being allowed on the bed, while Hizashi re-slotted himself in Shouta's arms. "_Most _of today," conceded Hizashi as he opened the book, "but I'm still going to be productive."

Aizawa grunted and pressed his face against the villain's side. A hand made its way into his black hair, gently running through the untangled locks and effectively leading him back to sleep.

When he next awoke, it was midday, and Hizashi was still reading in his arms. The blond noticed his stirring and traced his finger over Aizawa's scar, "Can I make a request, barista?"

"My day off," Aizawa murmured, but opened a tired eye.

Hizashi was smiling gently. "Fine, do you like hot cocoa?"

"For breakfast?"

"If you want."

Aizawa grunted in answer, but felt Hizashi lean down and kiss him on the forehead before he got out of bed. Boots, however, was quick to take his place, and the hero was happy to give the cat all the affection she deserved until the blond returned with hot chocolate and a plate of biscuits.

"Wow Boots," accused the blond, his voice still low and gravelly, although far better than before, "crawl into my grave, why don't ya?" He set the tray down on the bedside table as he gently moved the cat from his spot. Boots just purred as she was placed back at their feet, and Hizashi offered Aizawa one of the drinks. "I made yours with dark chocolate, so I hope it's bitter enough. Still, I image you're the better-"

The hero reached up and lazily covered Hizashi's mouth with his hand. "Rest."

Traitorous lips kissed his palm, and he pulled it away as he sat up to drink his hot cocoa. "It's okay," said the blond quietly. "It doesn't hurt, just feels like I'm recovering from a cold. I promise I'll stop talking if it hurts."

Aizawa grunted and sipped the drink. Too much milk and not enough cocoa, but the warmth and gesture were appreciated. He glanced at the book Hizashi had been reading, unsettled to find it was about chemical warfare. "Inspiration?"

Hizashi shrugged as he sipped his own drink. "Maybe," he said far too casually. "I'd tell you more about it, but you'll find out soon enough." He reached over and picked up his wallet, the one Aizawa had recovered from Giran's, and the blond pulled out his loyalty card. "One more stamp, and then next time I'll get a free drink?"

Eraserhead picked a biscuit from the plate and nibbled it without even caring what flavour it was. "No, next visit."

Hizashi tilted his head and grinned chaotically, "So only nine orders?"

"Tenth visit."

"Whose idea was that?"

"Boss - liked collecting loyalty cards and hated when they took them after they were completely stamped. Thought if they got the freebie on the tenth stamp they could keep the card." He ate another biscuit from the platter.

Hizashi put it back in his wallet. "I think I _will _keep it afterwards."

"You better redeem it before the fight," he said, suddenly wishing they'd never broached the subject. Aizawa found himself imagining his life without the ray of sunshine. A world of work, of colourless days, of a hole that could never be filled.

Even so, whatever option came to be, he would never regret loving Hizashi Yamada, even if it cost him everything. This day was worth it. Hizashi was worth it.

Eraserhead was his bridge, and Hizashi was going to burn him, but even a burning bridge could still be crossed.


	27. Coffee Sachets

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Coffee Sachets

Eraserhead had gone on patrol, leaving Hizashi to finally get to work on his latest designs. He'd finished the work on his gloves and smokebombs, and was now onto his next project. His warfare book was flipped open on his lab table, turned to a page detailing the filtration system of a high-tech gas mask. He glanced over the screen to his left, pleased with himself at having finally figured out one of his biggest obstacles.

He was on the same villain website he'd used to discover Eraserhead's hero name, although now he was reading over an article that detailed a very different hero.

_R-Rated Hero: Midnight. Quirk: Somnambulist. Uses pheromones from her skin to knock people unconscious, works better on men._

There was even an interview of her with another hero, Mt. Lady, and Hizashi smiled to himself as he watched. He'd found Nemuri.

As soon as he'd seen the image of her, he'd known (both Eraserhead and Nemuri were_ horrible _at making their disguises into _actual _disguises) and the sound of her voice in the interview confirmed her identity.

"Got you," he said in her voice as he wrote down some points on a piece of paper. His throat was almost healed. "As exciting as you are, sweetie, you put people to sleep. I bet Aizawa's told you a lot. Knowing him, you're his backup plan, in case he loses." His gaze returned to the book. "Your Quirk only works if inhaled, meaning I can stop you with the right equipment, Midnight."

It would be difficult to make himself a gasmask without limiting his Voice Quirk… Or would it?

-x-

Nemuri sat with him on the edge of the building as they surveyed the streets below. It was a quiet night. With Giran down, the villains were temporarily sticking closer to the shadows. "Has he said anything?" asked Eraserhead, not needing to clarify.

"Hasn't said a helpful word," she admitted with pursed lips. "Not about any of his associates, and certainly not about Hizashi."

"Our fight will take place in two days."

"Are you sure you can take him alone?"

"Yes," he said, and it was simultaneously the truth and a lie. "I told you, I'm not going to let him kill me, but it would be foolish to not have a backup plan."

She looked up at the stars. "So I'm supposed to sit around while you potentially die? I'm not okay with this, Eraser. _You _shouldn't be okay with this."

To her surprise, he turned to her and _grinned. _"I am. I don't want to hurt him, but I _need_ to save him. I don't know how to do that, but I'm the only one who can. I don't want to crush his face into the floor until he gives up, but if that's all I can do, then I will. I told you, I'm _not _going to lose. I'd sooner live without him than die, but this fight is my last chance to save him. If I have to beat some sense into him to be his hero, then I'm going to break every bone in his body. I'm going to save him, and to do that I must stop him on my own."

She stared at him, her eyes searching his face for any hint of defeat or doubt, but his shaky resolve had finally settled. Even if Present Mic refused to fight, Eraserhead wouldn't back down until he was sure he'd won. "If I catch him," she said, "and put him in prison, I won't let you see him again, so you better be sure to do the job yourself."

He got to his feet. "I'll need something else, to get an edge over him. He's probably doing the same as we speak."

"You said he's a long distance fighter," she strategized. "No doubt he's cooking up something to counter your capture weapon. What're his weaknesses?"

Aizawa paced along the building edge as he considered all he knew about Hizashi Yamada, Present Mic and the Trojan Bat. "He'll be using both identities against me, or else the fight will be a cakewalk. I've never seen him combine them completely, so I'll have to look at weaknesses for both. If he doesn't have his speaker, he won't be able to direct his voice, and he'll hurt himself if he's too loud. He wears headphones, so he might be able to turn them off and use his voice without the speaker, but that'll still leave him vulnerable." He stopped pacing. "His hearing-aids aren't regular ones. I saw the broken pair Giran made him wear and they looked worlds different to the ones he wears. He mentioned once he made them himself."

"Wow, destroying a deaf man's hearing-aids! _You _sound like the villain, but I love this excitement!"

"He takes them off to shower."

"You've showered together? Oh, what nasty things did you do to each other?" She stood up, face turning pink with excitement, but he ignored her typical duality.

Water.

He remembered a small pod he'd spent a decade in, and how he'd been swept from that life by a wave of water, into the arms of his love.

He'd need water to douse the flames that'd started everything.

"I need to choose the location for our fight."

-x-

Hizashi was still tinkering when Aizawa came home from patrol, although he'd stopped briefly to make some dinner and feed Boots a few hours back. He heard the front door open and he pulled himself away from his work at last, noticing it was just past 5am. Time really flew when he was having fun.

He left the lab and shut it behind him, determined not to let Eraserhead see what he was up to. "You hungry?" Hizashi asked as the hero pulled off his goggles and capture weapon.

"Yeah," he said roughly. Boots ran over to him and the hero bent down to give her some attention. "I've got barista work in an hour too, but no hero-shift tonight."

Hizashi moved to heat up the leftovers and cook some fresh rice for him. "How was patrol?"

"Quiet. Everyone's laying low because of Giran's capture." Eraser moved to his side and surprised him with a quick peck on the cheek. "How's your voice?"

"How's this?" He swapped to the voice of DJ Yamada, but struggled with gesticulating while he turned on the rice cooker. "Yo, coolest man alive here!"

"Thought _I_ was the coolest man alive," said Aizawa as he set about making himself a coffee. Hizashi had been nice enough to buy him some nice coffee sachets, leaps above his cheap instant grime, but it'd become obvious the barista didn't care what caffeinated sludge he drank. He should've known as much from a man whose favourite coffee was an unholy dose of expresso.

"You're never gonna let me live down that cheese," he said back in his own voice. "Don't worry, in a few days you'll no longer be the coolest man _alive_."

Aizawa rolled his eyes. "Where're we going to fight? You have a knack for finding empty warehouses in isolated parts of the city."

"It's called Google." He served up the heated leftovers on a plate, but was still waiting on the rice to finish. "Whoever decides the place will be at an advantage though."

"You decided the location of our last two fights," reasoned the hero as he sipped his (still boiling) coffee.

Hizashi paused. There were more risks to Aizawa picking the location than if Hizashi did. Afterall, if he had prior knowledge, the hero could set up an ambush. He was already certain Nemuri would be waiting in the wings in case Eraserhead failed, and although he was taking steps to prevent her interference, his lover had all of Hero HQ on his side, while Hizashi…

Hizashi was alone.

He had contacts, certainly, like Kurogiri, but they were only on his side for monetary gain. Hizashi had transferred his funds to Aizawa's account, and hadn't felt the need to transfer it back to his – if he was locked up then the hero could have it, and if the hero died then it would be even easier to transfer it back to his account.

This fight wasn't just Present Mic vs. Eraserhead: it was Present Mic vs. potentially _every hero in the city._ There were even rumours that All-Might was in the country. Maybe one day he could've taken on the pillar of justice, but that wouldn't be for years and years, and the preparation would be astronomical.

He was fighting alone, just as he'd always done.

"Zashi?"

Hizashi had taken to leaning against the counter, to stop himself from being crushed under the sudden torrent of isolation that had overcome him. Aizawa reached out a hand for him, to help him, but Hizashi slapped it away. "I'm fine," he said, his voice lower than expected. He pulled himself up and the rice cooker dinged to signal its completion. "Choose three decent locations, and I'll decide the final one. Logical."

Fuck it. Nothing was going to stop Present Mic's ascension.

He didn't care if he had to kill Eraserhead, or Midnight, or even All-Might. He'd burn _every _hero who got in his way, and he would do it all alone.

"I love you," said the hero, successfully catching him off-guard.

Hizashi turned to look at him, taking in the sight of Eraserhead installed in his kitchen. It was a nice sight, especially for someone who'd lived without human company for fifteen years. The man was subtly frowning, rubbing the back of his head in the sheepish way he did whenever he was embarrassed or uncertain.

The villain's shoulders slumped a little, and he offered a sad, genuine smile. "I know." He moved into the hero's arms and kissed along his stubbled jaw until he reached the scar beneath his right eye. "I love you too, Sho."

They held each other close, and for just a moment, Hizashi had the same wish as Aizawa: he'd wished they'd met sooner.

"I'm sorry," murmured the hero.

Hizashi pulled away, suspicion flaring. "For what?"

Aizawa grinned. "How badly I'm going to beat you in our fight."

The words sunk in, and Hizashi Yamada _laughed. _Wow, when had he become so twisted? Hizashi was a bad influence. "Well I'm sorry too."

"For what?"

"How badly I'm gonna burn you."

Aizawa leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. "I'll be home late tonight."

"Am I still under house arrest? We could go out for dinner."

"I don't know how late I'll be – gotta find three decent places."

Hizashi smiled tenderly and pressed their noses together too. "You up for another bad CGI movie?" Aizawa grunted and pulled away, only to kiss him quickly on the forehead before he picked up his breakfast.

"Sounds perfect."

-x-

"This is so exciting!" cooed Mei Hatsume as they entered the third building they planned to scope out. "I can't believe you get to fight the Trojan Bat! That'll be-" She glanced around and beamed. "Oh! This is the one!"

Aizawa rolled his shoulders and looked around. He was still in his civilian clothes, but he hadn't had time to get changed after barista work. He needed to decide where their fight would be, and Mei Hatsume was probably the only one in the world who could understand Hizashi's line of thinking. "Why this one?" True it was bigger than the others, but the second place Hizashi had chosen had been quite small.

"The lighting fixtures," she said as she waved at the ceiling. "All the others had hanging lights, but here they're built into the roof. Nothing for you to swing off or pull down with your scarf. It's got the columns too, which'll be necessary to break off line of sight with your Quirk, and this is the only one you chose that's still got working non-emergency power. You said he could use echolocation, but if it's something he has to concentrate to use, he'll still be relying on sight during the fight."

He nodded and checked over the entrances and exits – they all could be tightly sealed. He remembered back to their date at the museum, when he'd had to open a door slightly so Hizashi could use his echolocation in the room beyond.

That day at the café, when Hizashi had put a microphone on Aizawa's shirt, Hizashi had ensured Nemuri would visit. It wouldn't be too farfetched to assume he knew she was Midnight, and potentially involved. If he couldn't 'see' out the room, he wouldn't know what way Nemuri would enter to stop him if he succeeded in killing Eraserhead.

_If I catch him and put him in prison, I won't let you see him again._

So that was option twelve: Nemuri arrested Hizashi, and Aizawa never saw him again.

He didn't doubt she'd do it. When he looked at his situation from an outside perspective, he knew what he was doing was stupid and not entirely ethical (if at all). If someone had told him one month ago that his life would amount to this, he wouldn't've believed them, yet here he was.

He couldn't tell Nemuri the address, but he couldn't leave her in the dark either.

"I'll need an emergency message system," he told her as he checked the thickness of the walls. "Something that'll alert Midnight instantly with my location, but it can't be obvious."

She hummed and kicked lightly at one of the doors, before her face brightened exponentially. "I'll put a voice-activated tracker on you! Say a codeword and it'll send your signal to Midnight instantly! What do you want as your safety word? It should be something you can easily say without raising suspicion."

"Coffee," he said without hesitation. "The codeword should be coffee."

"I love it! I'll make sure it's sturdy enough to resist anything!"

"What about the sprinkler system?"

"With my skills? That'll be a piece of cake! I'll have a remote activation trigger set up for you by tomorrow morning. Won't be able to do it as voice activated, but making it rain indoors isn't subtle in itself."

He looked around the room again. There were quite a few columns, but aside from that there was nothing for him to swing on with his scarf. He needed something to increase his mobility, or else he wasn't going to stand a chance, and he needed something to protect his ears, or… "How quick are you at inventing?"

She turned to him and grinned wickedly. "Knowing that my tech'll bring down my personal hero? Give me a time, and I'll have whatever you need perfected by then."

Aizawa nodded and took several photos of the place, ensuring Mei wasn't in any of the shots.

This was it: the place a hero and a villain would die.


	28. Strawberry Smoothie

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Strawberry Smoothie

Aizawa awoke with Hizashi in his arms. Today was it, the last day they would spend together.

The blond was already awake and playing with a lock of black hair, but he let go once he noticed his lover stirring. "Hey you," Hizashi said with a playful smile. "Let's do something fun today."

Shouta grunted and pressed their foreheads together. "Sleep is fun." He said it loudly, remembering in his daze that the blond wouldn't have his hearing-aids in.

Hizashi pulled away, only to smack their foreheads back together, snapping Aizawa into consciousness with the shock rather than the pain. "I haven't left the house in two days and I'm stir crazy," grumbled the villain. "And we already spent yesterday in bed. Let's go out – it's my turn to take you on a date."

The barista grunted and closed his eyes, but the gentle touch of hands cupping his face made him open them again. Hizashi was looking at him, but his expression was distant – he was _examining _him.

"You look good," Hizashi said at last, but he didn't smile when he said it. "You're not perfect, but you're not the lifeless man I met at the coffeeshop anymore."

He _wasn't _that lifeless man anymore, the one he'd been before he'd met Hizashi Yamada at the coffeeshop that day, but he wasn't certain that was a good thing anymore.

While Eraserhead's scar tilted upwards, helping outline his eye, Hizashi's was tilted down, outlining the subtle roundness of his cheek where the muzzle had torn through flesh. Aizawa couldn't stop himself from eyeing it.

"I love you," he said loudly so the blond would hear.

Hizashi blinked those large emerald eyes at him, and his playful smile returned. "Love you too, you piece of stationary. Come on, date number three." Their third and final date.

He got up, only somewhat begrudgingly, and together they had a brief shower and a full breakfast. When he put the music speaker on for Hizashi to listen to, that same deceptively happy song about sunshine came on, and the blond's throat was healed enough for him to mimic along. Even Aizawa quietly hummed the chorus.

When they sat down to eat, it was time to ruin the domestic mood. "These are the three options for tomorrow," Eraser said as he showed him the images on his phone.

Hizashi took it in one hand and glanced over each one, still chewing a mouthful of rice as he eyed them critically. His thumb flicked over the screen, paused, and then moved in the opposite direction. Another pause and Hizashi put the phone down, "Second one."

Aizawa kept the relief from his appearance. It was the one Mei had said he'd pick, with the columns and lack of hanging lights. He put his phone away and ate his breakfast without qualm, although the atmosphere had grown colder. "Where're we going today?"

"It's a surprise," Hizashi said with a wink. "Eat up though, you'll need your strength."

"I'm already worried."

"My throats all healed too, so expect me to be demanding in the bedroom tonight."

"I'm less worried."

"But first we should figure out how we're dividing everything."

"Dividing?" asked Eraserhead.

"Either you die, or I end up in jail. So, whoever lives and/or isn't arrested can have the apartment, the bank account and Boots," reasoned the blond. It was logical, at least. The cat heard her name and hurried over, purring intensely as she rubbed against their legs. Aizawa picked her up and she batted happily at his chest with her soft paws.

"If I die, I want you to become DJ Yamada again," he said, his voice softer than he'd intended.

Hizashi crinkled his brows, but nodded. "If I'm arrested, I want you to adopt."

His stomach fell. "A kid?"

The blond snorted. "Another cat, for Boots. Don't drag any kids into your disaster zone."

He nodded and gently scratched the cat behind her ear. "Another cat doesn't sound so bad." Aizawa got up to feed her while Hizashi cleaned the kitchen, and they were soon out the door.

-x-

He'd finished his preparations the previous day. Everything was now ready and his equipment and costume had been moved to a temporary storage locker, although he'd still need to scope out the fight location in person to set up his speakers. They'd decide an approximate time for their fight, and Hizashi would slip out in the morning. It wouldn't be too hard – he'd done it before with the intention of never seeing Aizawa again.

Tomorrow, Present Mic wouldn't hold back, but for today they were lovers on their third date.

"Our other two dates have been … out of the ordinary, to say the least, so I figured we should just have the most typical, average date imaginable," Hizashi said as he took Aizawa's hand in his.

"I'm sure everything will be perfectly average. What's first?"

"Shopping first," he said with a smile. "But we won't be doing anything cool like last time. I'll look for clothes for myself, which'll naturally take forever, and I'll drag you around with me and get offended if you even suggest sitting down. I'll probably try on about six different shirts, half of them too small, and I'll make you run and fetch bigger sizes even though you won't know where I got them from. In the end I might buy one or two, but only because I'll feel guilty for taking so much time."

"Sounds painful. Which store?"

"The third cheapest, of course. I want you to think I have standards, but I still don't want to hurt my wallet." He let go of his hand and took his arm instead, "But after that we'll do something nicer, I promise."

Hizashi dragged him into a clothing store and picked out six shirts at random. Aizawa had to stand outside the changerooms and diligently fetch the aforementioned larger sizes whenever asked, but whenever Hizashi moved out of the changeroom, the hero shook his head.

The blond rolled his eyes. "You're supposed to nod and tell me they all look amazing on me."

"They don't," Aizawa said bluntly. What? This was … odd. "You look uncomfortable." The hero walked off and came back with a colourful shirt, looser than the others, although he didn't say anything more as he handed it to him. Hizashi stared at it. Dammit, it _was_ nice … This guy was supposed to have the fashion sense of a _brick!_

He tried it on and sure enough it fit him well, if a little too loosely. When he stepped out, Aizawa nodded, and Hizashi spied a ghost of a smile on his features. "You look good, although you're still an eyesore."

His face felt unbearably hot. Seriously, how could this tired man make him feel like a shy teenager? "You weren't supposed to make this fun."

"You make it too easy, Sunshine." His chest felt cold at the nickname, and something must've shown on his face. "Sorry," Aizawa said softly. "Wait here."

He disappeared and Hizashi looked at himself in the mirror. His cheeks were still red, his eyes aglow, even beneath his thickly framed glasses. The scar was healing well.

Hizashi Yamada looked _good_. He'd never neglected his personal health, even in his darkest days, so how could he look better than he had only a month ago? Hizashi inched closer to the mirror and his chest felt numb.

No matter how red his cheeks were, how bright his eyes, the face that stared back at him belonged to a villain.

Right, he wasn't the Trojan Bat, and he wasn't Present Mic. He was those two personas combined, and so much more. He was the super villain Hizashi Yamada. He was…He was the…

"Here." He turned as Shouta reappeared, holding out a shopping bag. "Saw this last time we were here - thought you'd like it."

Hizashi took the bag and pulled out a bright yellow sweater with a black cat on the front. It was a little too big for him, but he imagined that had been intentional. The numbness he'd felt only moments ago vanished, replaced by an addictive warmth, and he shot his boyfriend a grin. "Besides the colour, this is like something you'd wear."

Aizawa rolled his shoulders. "It's comfortable and logical."

"You know this was supposed to be the average part of our date."

"Then, logically, the rest is going to be better."

Hizashi exhaled, "Nemuri was right: you are turning into a sap."

Shouta paused. "When did she say that?"

The blond rolled his eyes. "When you were talking to her in the storeroom. Don't play dumb, Sho, I know you knew I put a mic on you. Oh, and I know you were passing notes too." He stepped back inside the changeroom, speaking loud enough for Aizawa to hear. "What did you tell her that made her cry?"

Eraserhead didn't reply for a time, and Hizashi was about to give up on receiving an answer, when he softly said, "I told her I loved you."

Hizashi paused. So, that was how he'd convinced her not to immediately arrest him. Still, was such a declaration really worth her tears? He stepped out the changeroom and put every outfit other than the one Aizawa had picked out on the return rack. "You really fell hard for me, didn't you?"

"If I hadn't, I wouldn't be willing to do this."

"Not arrest me? Fight me to the death?"

"Go clothes shopping."

Despite everything, Hizashi snorted. He bought the shirt and as soon as they were out the shop he put on the jumper. Aizawa grunted an approval. "Well, thus ends the 'lame' part of our date," declared the blond, "but the next part will be better. Come on, we're doing something fun." Hizashi pulled him along to part two of their date: Bowling. "You ever been bowling before?"

"Yes," he said simply, but didn't expand on it. Hizashi rolled his eyes and dragged him inside so they could swap their shoes and get a lane.

Before Aizawa could suggest anything, Hizashi had already typed their names into the machine: _Stationary _and _Electronic._

"Get it? Cause you're an eraser and I'm a microphone."

"Your brilliance is astounding," quietly murmured Aizawa, and it was funny to gauge just how genuinely he meant it.

Hizashi grinned as he picked up the bowling ball, "Well now you'll get to see my brilliance in action."

-o-

His stance was all wrong, and not in an unintentional way. Hizashi's body was purposefully facing too far left, his placement too extreme, and when he threw the ball it almost instantly landed in the gutter. The blond made a disheartened sound and moved some fringe behind his ear as he turned around. "I thought I'd be better at this," he lied while pursing his lips.

He looked cute when he played dumb, as much as Aizawa hated to admit it. "You still have another shot."

"I do," said the blond with a smile as he picked up a different bowling ball, one clearly too light for him. "Here I go~!" He bowled it straight into the gutter, not even pretending to line up a decent swing. "I'm so _bad _at this! Your turn, stationary."

He grunted and picked up his ball, surprising himself when he knocked over _most_ the pins. He must've been rusty, to not score a strike. Hizashi whistled, but he rolled his eyes as he picked up the same ball and knocked over the remaining pins for a spare.

"You're good at this," remarked Hizashi as he swayed over to him. "You play before?"

"Nemuri and I used to bowl once a week," he said honestly, noting carefully how the blond ran his hand over his arm. "Before I got too busy, of course."

Hizashi bit his lip, his eyes looking playful beneath his thick lenses, and he even bust out one of his signature grins. "Maybe you can help me~"

Aizawa grinned back. "I can try, but I'm not much of a teacher." He picked up a ball that suited Hizashi's strength and showed him how to properly hold it. The hero led him to the lane and, if his intention hadn't been obvious before, it was when Hizashi pressed back against his crotch.

"How's my stance?" he purred.

Aizawa put his head on his shoulder and cupped his hands to show him the basic stance and the basic line up. The cat jumper felt warm and soft. "Stand like this, a little to the right, and aim for that arrow." His arm swung forward and released the ball. They watched as it rolled down the lane and knocked over half the pins – he'd needed more force.

Hizashi turned just enough to kiss him on the neck, before he whispered in his ear, "I'm gonna rock your world tonight~"

Aizawa shivered at those words, but was still grinning like a fool. "But for now," he said as he pulled away, "I'm going to beat you at bowling."

And he did. Although Hizashi improved _miraculously_ after the first round – claiming repeatedly it was because of his 'expert teacher' – Aizawa was simply better at bowling than him. He'd even attracted some unwanted company in the form of two girls sipping pink strawberry smoothies from beyond the racks. Much to his distaste, their eyes were on him.

He scored a strike and the two cheered. "Wow, you're good at that," called the first as she pulled herself away from her plastic straw. "I bet you play professionally."

"Not interested," he stated immediately, intending for it to mean he wasn't interested in _her_, but she didn't take the hint.

"Well you'd be really good at it," she continued. "We should play together some time. Here, I'll give you my phone number!"

"No."

"_I'll _take your phone number," said the unexpected voice of Hizashi. Aizawa glanced over at him and his stomach clenched. He was smiling pleasantly, but the hero noticed the tell in his features that hinted at his possessiveness. Who could even fathom what torments the girl would have in store if the _Trojan Bat_ got her number?

She looked at him and her face twisted. "That moustache makes you look like a gay dad. Gross, no thanks." The girl turned back to Aizawa. "How about we-"

Shouta felt his hair rise off his shoulders and his eyes began to burn, but before he could say anything, he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He looked to see Hizashi standing at his side, smiling devilishly. Aizawa's eyes fell on his scar. The blond leaned close to his ear, "I think it's time we head home, Sho."

"We haven't had dinner yet…"

Hizashi pressed close, his body trembling against him. "Seeing you like this really turns me on~"

His hair fell. Aizawa glanced back at the screen, and gently took the blond's hand in his as he tenderly kissed him on the palm, effectively startling the two girls. One nearly choked on her plastic straw (apparently they weren't only a danger for sea creatures).

"Zashi," he said to him, his voice calm, "that can wait. Let's finish our game and get some dinner. Besides, I have one more bad date idea for us to try."


	29. Affogato

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Affogato

The sky was smothered by grey clouds and a sense of despair. It would rain soon – Hizashi could smell it in the air – but here they were on the outskirts of a small park. "_Picking up trash_?" he asked in a sceptical tone as he glanced around. "Your idea for a date is _picking up trash_?"

"My idea for a _bad _date is picking up trash." Aizawa scratched the back of his head, his eyes glancing apprehensively at the gathering storm. "We still need to do something good, since we broke into a museum on our last date."

Hizashi vaguely remembered the man forewarning this, but he supposed it was reasonable – the man had been willing to do something villainous for him, so it was only fair to do something semi-heroic in return. "We're not doing it without gloves," he pointed out. "We'll get a disease."

One short shopping trip later, they were picking up trash in the park. It really was a _bad _date idea.

"Gross," said Hizashi as he picked up a carton of what had once been milk. "This. Is. _Gross._"

Aizawa tossed a metal can in the nearby bin. "I've literally seen you lick the blood of strangers off your face."

"There's a difference between- Oh fuck it's dripping." Hizashi dropped it and decided the _hero _could deal with it as he moved over to some less-gross plastic bags. "I'm warning you now, if I see a bug, I'm gonna scream and break up with you."

Aizawa grunted. "I'll fully respect that decision."

"I'd rather get attacked by more thugs than see a bug, to be honest. So, where're you planning to take me for dinner? Someplace just as bad as this?"

"I'll cook."

Hizashi shot him an aghast look, "You can _cook _something _other_ than instant ramen?"

The hero rolled his shoulders. "One or two things. My mother tried to teach me, but I wasn't the most enthusiastic child."

"You're not the most enthusiastic adult either, Sho." Hizashi picked up a discarded coffee cup and looked at it thoughtfully as he softly said, "I saw you once… You were asleep in the elevator."

Aizawa was quiet for a time, but eventually said, "Sounds like me. The way it moved made me drowsy."

"I was going to wake you, but…" He threw the cup away. There was a low rumble and they both glanced up at the gathered clouds. The first drop of rain hit his cheek, streaking down his skin and over his scar. His smile was sad. "I never reached out either."

Eraserhead watched him carefully as more rain ran down his features, flattened his blond hair, made it shimmer. The hero moved to his side, peeled off his rubber gloves and pulled off his coat to drape it over Hizashi's head, protecting his hearing-aids from the rain. "I think we've picked up enough."

"Enough to compensate your conscience for breaking into a museum?"

"Enough." Aizawa kissed him on the forehead and helped peel off his gloves. "Let's get out of this rain."

-x-

Spaghetti: he could make spaghetti. That was okay, because the grocery store stocked every type of sauce one could ever need. Aizawa picked out one for carbonara, but purchased bacon, mushrooms and an onion for the sauce – to make sure it was 'gourmet'. He went to add a packet of peas to the basket, but Hizashi stopped him with a weird expression. "_Peas_?"

"Yes."

"You're putting _peas _in _pasta?_"

"Yes," he repeated.

"And people call _me _a villain." However, he didn't put them back, and Aizawa appreciated the chance. They got home to the apartment and Aizawa immediately set to work on cooking. Hizashi hung around the kitchen, giving Boots plenty of attention while clearly keeping an eye on him to ensure he didn't accidentally set the apartment building on fire – they didn't need any more of those in their lives.

Even so, he _did _manage to burn the spaghetti, but when he asked if Hizashi wanted him to restart, the blond just said, "I've eaten worse things."

So that was their final dinner together: burnt spaghetti with sauce from a jar.

"I'm not much of a cook," Aizawa reminded him as he ate. It tasted okay – not as good as instant ramen, but it was hot and filling.

Hizashi sighed. "I should've given you more cooking lessons." He ate a mouthful and smiled, "Although, the peas are actually nice. I might add them to my own recipe in the future."

Just like that, the atmosphere dampened. Rain tapped against the window and the wind filled the void. They ate in silence for a time, until Aizawa stood up and went to the freezer.

He fiddled about the kitchen for a few minutes and returned with two coffees, a scoop of vanilla ice-cream in each – affogatos. Hizashi grinned at the sight. "A dessert that _isn't _mind-blowing sex? You never cease to surprise me." He stirred in the sweetness, sipped it, and his grin widened. "You're still a better barista than you are a chef."

"It would've been better with an actual coffee machine, so I hope it's okay."

"It's perfect." Aizawa sat back down to drink his own, and Hizashi ran his foot over his leg. "Hey Sho…" The villain grinned devilishly. "You ever been bottom?"

The man thought back to the mess that was his twenties. "No," he admitted after taking another sip from his drink, planning to finish the coffee part before more of the ice-cream melted. He'd never had a desire to be topped – with his strength and muscles it just always seemed more natural for him to be the dominant one. Then again, the thought of Hizashi doing those things to him definitely made his loose pants feel a little tight.

The villain's foot ran up and down his leg, as if sensing his budding arousal. "You're going to die tomorrow," Hizashi said lowly, his voice more playful than meaningful, "so why not find out how _good _it feels? Don't worry… I'll take care of you~"

Aizawa grinned. "Then how about we move dessert to the bedroom?"

Hizashi downed the last of his affogato and got up, swaying around the table and dropping himself in the hero's lap. His arms wrapped around his neck, but it was Aizawa who pulled him into a heated kiss. His tongue entered Hizashi's hot mouth, and the blond playfully _sucked _on it, sending arousal down his spine. Their growing bulges pressed together as their hips instinctively rocked back and forth.

His hands cupped and fondled Hizashi's ass, while the villain's hands tugged at his hair and twisted his head this way and that to kiss him more desperately. Aizawa suddenly stood with the villain in his arms, never breaking the kiss even as he carried him to the bedroom and shut the door behind them.

Only then did Hizashi pull away, nipping at Aizawa's lips as he whispered, "I want you on the bed~"

The hero shivered and set him down, only to immediately press him against the wall. His mouth was once again on Hizashi's, kissing him enthusiastically until saliva slicked their lips, while their hands wrenched at unwanted clothing. Once naked, they fell on the bed with the blond on top and Hizashi slipped down to kiss messily at his stubbled jaw.

His hands were running up and down his muscles, and Hizashi moved even lower to start kissing the scars that littered the hero's body. "So many," he whispered as he kissed another. "Do you remember how you got them?"

"No," he said softly.

"Roll over."

Aizawa looked at him with a mixture of lust and scepticism, "Your Quirk?"

Hizashi kissed his inner thigh. "I'll be good," he purred out. "I'll control myself for you." The hero nodded and rolled over, jerking his hips instinctively when Hizashi's hands roughly fondled his butt cheeks. "Such a cute ass, babe~" He pushed forward, forcing Aizawa's hips into the air, although his upper body remained on the mattress. It was a compromising position, one the hero wasn't sure he liked.

A devilish tongue licked over the base of his balls, sending a shudder through his body. "Just remember," Aizawa grumbled against the pillow, "I need to fight you tomorrow."

"It's okay, baby~ I'll get you good and prepped. You're gonna feel so good, baby~" His legs trembled at those words, the blond's voice sounding so sexy when he said things like that. His hips automatically cantered when he felt something hot and foreign and not entirely pleasant run over his entrance. Hands squeezed his outer thighs as Hizashi's tongue caressed him. His dick twitched at the first testing penetration as it dipped inside him, and he struggled to keep his hips still as it repeatedly retreated and roved back inside, deeper each time.

His fingers squeezed the bedsheets and he buried his face in the pillow. A few more tongue thrusts and he was trembling and struggling not to rock his hips back, to fuck himself on Hizashi's hot mouth. God, that was an embarrassing thought, one that made his neglected dick twitch again. "Zashi~"

The blond pulled away and licked along his thigh, "Does that feel good baby? I'll replace it with something better." He grabbed the lube from the bedside table. "You look so sexy like this, baby~ You're gonna feel amazing soon."

Hizashi was apparently a talkative top. With a voice that sexy, Shouta wasn't complaining.

He shuddered at the feeling of cold lube on his entrance, but that didn't compare to the invasive sensation of a finger smearing it around his rim. Aizawa muffled an uncomfortable grunt when the digit entered him, and the villain stopped once it was completely inside. It felt strange. Wasn't this supposed to feel good?

"Talk to me, baby," said the blond softly.

"Feels … weird."

"Okay baby, let's get you used to it." The finger was thankfully removed and there was the sound of more lubricant being poured out of the bottle. Next, a greased hand stroked his erection, slowly, although the attention felt good. "Relax baby." Aizawa tried to relax into the feeling of being torturously jacked off, but just as he was about to complain about the pace, the finger re-entered him. With the added stimulation of his length being stroked, it didn't feel so bad. In fact, it felt _good_ when Hizashi began to thrust the finger in and out, unhurriedly at first. "Talk to me, baby."

Aizawa grunted. "Better…"

"Good, baby, that's so good." The finger changed angles, and the hero realised dazedly that Hizashi was methodically searching for his prostate. A few experimental thrusts later and a rush of pleasure thrummed through his body. He must've moaned, for the skilled fingers suddenly targeted that spot. Wait, were there two fingers now? When had he added the second? "Baby, talk to me."

"There, Zashi~"

"Good~ You're so sexy, Sho~" A third finger entered him, and this time he felt it, although the slight discomfort was over-ruled by pleasure. "You're so sexy like this~ I wanna stick it in and fuck you good, baby~ Make you scream like you make me scream~"

Aizawa wanted that too. He wanted Hizashi's dick inside him. Another embarrassing thought that spurred him on. "Zashi," he groaned and trembled once those fingers pulled out. His villain would give him what they both wanted soon enough.

-o-

Fuck, he was so sexy like this. Aizawa's face was pressed into the pillow, but he could still spy the redness of his cheeks, could still hear the muffled groans of pleasure he thought were secretive. No one had ever seen Shouta Aizawa like this before, and there was a thrill that came with that knowledge.

Hizashi wanted to just dive into that prepared warmth, but he took the necessary time to slick his length with lube and give Aizawa a chance to breathe and step away from the edge – even though they had all night, he didn't want their first round to end too quickly.

"Baby," he said huskily, his voice intentionally deeper. Aizawa visibly shivered – he was enjoying the pet name. "Talk to me. What do you like?"

"Voice," admitted the man, turning his head enough to look at him with one eye. Fuck he looked so sexy. "Your voice…"

His heart skipped a beat. Usually people told him to shut up during sex, but… Fuck, he loved this man.

"Okay baby," he breathed out as he rubbed his length against the line of Aizawa's ass, "I'll talk as much as you want. I'm gonna put it in. Stay with me, baby." The man just nodded and buried his face back in the pillow and Hizashi had to bite his lip as he slowly entered. It'd been a while since he'd last topped, and Shouta's body was _tight_. He only managed to get the head in before he had to pause. "Relax baby, y-you're too tense~"

Aizawa nodded sluggishly and gradually the vice relaxed around him.

He slid further inside, his length not as thick as Aizawa's but just as long. He'd been taking it slow, but suddenly the hero's hips thrust back, fully sheathing him inside. Hizashi moaned at the sudden pressure and Aizawa made a short guttural sound low in his throat. "S-So impatient, baby~ Too deep?" He tenderly rubbed his lover's back. "I can pull out a little if-"

"No," Aizawa choked out, "don't move, just… don't move…" His voice sounded so rough and sexy that Hizashi trembled.

"Okay baby, you feel so good~ You're doing so well, you're-" He cut himself off with another moan as Shouta constricted around him, his sound echoed by his lover moaning into the pillow. Hizashi ran his hands over his sides, purring tenderly. Aizawa relaxed again, but just when he did, Hizashi threw his voice close to Aizawa's ear and whispered, "You're doing such a good job of taking me in, baby~ I'm all in~" The man's body tightened around him again and they both moaned, Hizashi more devilishly than before. The villain wasn't the only one with kinks. He shivered, "Talk to me, baby~"

"You did that … on purpose," accused Aizawa from the safety of his pillow.

"Of course." Hizashi kissed along his spine, revelling in the scent of his sweaty lover. "I'm gonna move. Tell me if it hurts or i-is uncomfortable." Aizawa nodded, and the blond rocked his hips to gauge the hero's reaction. His breathing was heavy, but he didn't sound pained. He took that as a cue to pull further out and to push back in. Shouta made a pleased sound into the pillow and Hizashi shivered. "Fuck you're good, babe~" He picked up his pace, and could barely hold back his own moans, although he managed to retain control of his Quirk, even as he spewed out comforting words that made Aizawa's body tighten around him. Whether it was a praise kink, a vocal kink, or both, the hero seemed to be enjoying the experience, especially when Hizashi found his sweet spot again.

Aizawa suddenly pressed his hips back against him, back curling as he unleashed a heady moan that made Hizashi curl his toes. Bingo.

The blond pulled out until only his head was still imbedded, and snapped his hips forward, hitting that spot again.

"Zashi~!" moaned the man, and the blond peppered the back of his neck with kisses as he began to fuck him harder. His hands roamed everywhere, leaving invisible marks with his mind: Eraserhead's left arm, his left shoulder, his firm back, his right elbow, and just above his bellybutton. All of him belonged to Hizashi. He leaned down and held Aizawa's right hand, pressing his palm against the back of it. The hero's fingers entwined with his and held on tight.

Every time he hit that spot inside him, the hero moaned, or arched his back, or cried out his name, and Hizashi rewarded every reaction with a compliment.

_You sound so good, baby._

_You feel so hot, baby._

_You make me feel so amazing, baby._

_You're so tight, baby._

Aizawa loved it.

"Talk to me, b-baby~"

"Close," he groaned, rocking his hips back to meet with Hizashi's hard thrusts. This man wasn't exactly a masochist, but at the very least he had one hell of a pain threshold.

"Me too, baby, me too. You're doing s-so good and I'm gonna reward you~ You want it, babe~? You want me to fill you up, baby~?"

"_Fuck yes_."

That was all Hizashi needed to finish. He bit his lip as he cried out, stifling the sound - if not the vibrations - and he saw more stars when Aizawa tightened around him upon finishing too. He pressed his forehead between his shoulder blades, and put his weight on the hero. With his legs shaky from climax, Aizawa's hips crumbled to the mattress, and he grunted uncomfortably at Hizashi's weight.

The blond laughed breathlessly and kissed at his neck. They stayed like that for a minute, taking time to enjoy the soft afterglow and the diminishing muscle spasms that wracked Aizawa's body after climax. "You okay, baby?" the villain asked. Aizawa grunted and Hizashi took that as his cue to pull out. The hero grunted again and then rolled over so he could wrap his arms around him and drag him into a passionate kiss. He enthusiastically returned it, his hands gently brushing black hair from Aizawa's face. Their lips parted and he pressed their foreheads together. "How was that?"

"…Different," Shouta said thoughtfully.

Hizashi grinned devilishly and slipped a hand down to Aizawa's entrance, rubbing it playfully with his index finger. The hero shuddered beneath him, his cheeks red. "How does it feel to be full of my cum~?"

Aizawa returned the grin with his own, and his hands clamped down on Hizashi's ass. "How about I fill you up too so we both know what it's like?"

Fuck he was sexy. "We've got the whole night, baby," Hizashi whispered as he pressed their faces so firmly together that even their scars were touching. "Let's make it a fun one."

-x-

They lay in each other's arms, spent but content, even though an edge of sadness pervaded the scene. The roar of rain continued outside, but inside they were safe. Aizawa knew he'd wake alone in the morning. There would be no tender morning after, no comforting shower, no hot breakfast. This was it, the last time he'd see Hizashi Yamada – when next they met, they would be a hero and a villain.

"I don't regret it," he quietly told the blond as he pressed a kiss on his forehead. "I don't regret ruining your debut, or not arresting you immediately, although it would've been nice if our first two dates hadn't been interrupted by Giran's thugs."

Hizashi hummed and cuddled against his chest, his nose pressing against the small 'H' necklace the hero still wore. "That would've been nice, but at least this one wasn't ruined. Remember, at least one of us needs to live tomorrow and/or _not _be in prison – Boots is counting on that."

Aizawa nodded. "I'll visit you, once I lock you up."

The blond snickered. "I'll visit you too: your grave, that is. I'll leave you some nice flowers."

He nodded. "If you win, you have to become a DJ again."

"And you'll have to adopt."

"Adopt a _cat_," specified Shouta. "You're all set for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I've even fixed up my costume."

"Oh?"

"I'm not _just _going to be Present Mic, after all. I'm going to be Present Mic _and _the Trojan Bat." Hizashi pulled away enough to give Aizawa a sinister grin. "You better be ready, because I'm not going to hold back."

Shouta's demeanour fell as he looked at Hizashi's face – his bright emerald eyes, his blond moustache, his reddened lips. "I won't ever love anyone like I love you, Hizashi."

The devilish grin faded to a thin line, and Hizashi cupped his face. "I love you too, Shouta. I love you so much I can barely breathe when I think about what tomorrow will bring. No matter what happens, I'll never find anyone as handsome, or as witty, or as funny as you." There was anguish in his emerald eyes, but not defeat.

_We're both drowning, Sho, but you're trying to keep my head above water, even when all I want to do is drag you down. You're my bridge, and so you must burn._

That's right, Shouta Aizawa was his bridge, his one remaining chance at redemption that he needed to destroy.

And Hizashi Yamada was _his _bridge too. If he could only save the villain, even with his final breath, then he could die knowing he'd done _something._

"I love you, Hizashi." He whispered those words gently as he carefully removed the blond's hearing-aids.

"I love you too," quietly said the villain as he pressed himself against his hero's chest. "I love you too, my coolest man alive."

Despite everything, neither could stay awake for long in their loving embrace.

Just as he'd predicted, when Shouta Aizawa awoke the next morning, he was alone.

-x-

Hizashi had collected his things and left the apartment without waking Aizawa, although he had paused to pet Boots one final time. If this went bad, this would be the last time he ever saw his poor feline. Still, if Aizawa won, he was sure the hero would take good care of her in his stead.

Although it was morning, it was still dark out, and the wet streets were almost empty as he made his way to Kurogiri's bar. The place was open, even at this ungodly hour, and the bartender glanced him over as he entered. "You can get changed in the bathroom, Mic," he said as he wiped down the bench for him. No one else was around. "You've gotten slack with your costume." Hizashi carried his duffle bag into the bathroom and peeled off the yellow cat-sweater Shouta had bought him, only to replace it with his villainous attire. When he stepped out again, Kurogiri looked him over with what could've been surprise. "An interesting change."

To call his outfit new would've been an overstatement. It was his typical threads, just with a few poignant alterations.

Red flames patterned the leather and his spiked shoulder pads, while his new headphones had small antennae and several wires connecting them to his Directional Speaker. His hair was down, with only a small part of it slicked back with gel, and the bridge of his orange specs was thicker than his previous pair. His belt now had several studs in it, and the buckle had an insignia shaped like a bat. He had a mask too, but it still sat in his bag – he couldn't have a drink with it on.

"Vodka, a bottle," he said as he took his seat. "No mixer."

The bartender nodded and pulled out the requested bottle and a shot glass. "I heard about Giran. I'm glad everything worked out."

Hizashi snickered and his fingers brushed against the scar on his left cheek. "Me too." He poured himself the first shot and downed it in one mouthful. At the very least, Giran was good when it came to being selective about what he told the cops, even under pressure. Kurogiri's establishment would be safe and secret, no matter what they promised him in return. "Hey Kurogiri, can I ask you something weird?"

"I'm a bartender," he answered as he picked up a glass to clean. "I'm a therapist who encourages their clients to drink."

Mic sniggered and downed a second shot. "I'm going to be in a fight tonight, but the person I'm going up against is _good_. So good, there's a chance I'll lose. I don't have any worthwhile amounts of money at the moment, but you know I'm good with paying off debts in full and with interest."

"Just give me the co-ordinates and I'll get you out if things go sour. It'll be on the house, although this vodka isn't."

Hizashi smiled at the man. "Thanks, _Listener_." He placed a small device on the bar. "I'll signal instantly if I need a quick getaway, and it'll give you my exact co-ordinates. Even if I win the fight, I have a feeling the guy I'm fighting will have backup in the wings, and I might not be capable of taking them out too, although I already have something to help against them. I might not even need your help though, so don't get offended if it doesn't go off. If it doesn't buzz by morning, teleport the device someplace far away."

Kurogiri nodded. "You've been a good customer, Present Mic."

"Oh, it's not Present Mic anymore." Hizashi downed another shot, slapped some money on the counter and got to his feet. He pulled on the mask.

Serrated teeth patterned the black material in a permanent, malicious grin, while the two speakers at its sides doubled as air-filtration devices. On the left side, the mask was oddly sloped, designed so it outlined his scar rather than obscured it. He plugged two cords into the Directional Speaker around his neck and tilted his orange specs as he grabbed the bottle. When he spoke, his voice thrummed lowly through the new array of speakers, the sound distorted by the echo.

His plan was finalised. Prison _wasn't_ an option.

"I'm the_**Trojan Mic**_."


	30. Water (Part One)

Chapter Thirty

Water (Part One)

Unlike their previous fights, Eraserhead was there first, waiting for his opponent to arrive. Hizashi was fashionably late for once.

Aizawa's costume was mostly unaltered – goggles, belt, knife, capture weapon, black jumpsuit. His boots were different though, now steel-capped with metal soles.

It wasn't much, but it was time to see if Mei's tech could compare to her villainous hero's.

He heard music, a prelude for what was to come, as the doors adjacent to his starting position flew open. In walked the leather clad villain, a wry spring in every heavy step. The doors slammed shut behind him, the thump almost in time with the song, and the rectangular outline served to frame the fierce intruder.

The prelude sunk into something modern and bouncy that played through the speakers on the villain's outfit, the volume just bordering comfortable – thanks to the buds in Aizawa's ears. Another of Mei's inventions that would equalize all sound he heard and render him immune to volume-based attacks.

"Welcome, Eraserhead," echoed the voice through the speakers. It didn't match any of his other personas, but that was to be expected. "Welcome to the debut of the _Trojan Mic."_

Hizashi'd been hard at work; that much was obvious. He almost hated the mask for the fact it hid his lover's face, but then again that would be to his benefit too. Eraserhead wasn't planning to hold back a single punch.

"Don't think that name's any better," called Aizawa, shifting back and forth on his feet, ready to leap into action at a moment's notice.

"Oh, I'm _sorry_," cooed the villain, "are you saying something?" He pointed at his new flashy headphones. "Sorry, _Dearest Listener, _but I _can't _hear _you_~"

The time for talk was over. Eraserhead couldn't have agreed more.

Well, if the Trojan Mic wouldn't make the first move, then the hero would.

His metal soles echoed around the room, warring against the music for supremacy. The beats clashed with every step. His hair and scarf floated around his shoulders as he activated his Quirk, and he drew the bandages forward, aiming directly for the leather-clad villain.

Mic sighed and leaned on his left leg, "Always so predictable."

He pulled something from his back pocket, a familiar hand-sized disc, and thumped it with his fist. The air filled with yellow smoke that consumed Eraser's vision. His bandages disappeared inside the cloud, but returned empty-handed.

He leapt away to avoid inhaling the knockout gas, glad he'd recognised it from the blond's elevator trick. So Hizashi's mask wasn't just for the speakers – a gasmask too. Damn, he'd have to destroy it.

Although he could still hear the music, it seemed to be coming from multiple directions now. Of course the blond had made his own battlefield alterations: he must've set up hidden speakers all over the room for dramatic flair. Aizawa's hair dropped about his shoulders as he let himself blink.

Thankfully, the gas dispersed quickly and harmlessly, but Mic had disappeared with it. He must've been hiding behind one of the columns, but which-

"No time to think, baby, it's sink or **_SWIM!_**"

A column to his right dislodged and flew directly for him. Eraser dodged and wrapped his bandages around it to successfully slow its course, stopping it from ploughing through the wall. He had to keep the walls intact for as long as possible – a difficult feat with this enemy.

Hizashi wiggled his fingers in a wave. "Miss me?"

"No, but you missed me," he growled as he tried to pull his capture weapon from around the column, but it was caught on something that shouldn't've been there.

"Still can't hear you, _baby. _You not appreciating my jam? I'll switch it up for you, while you're in your_ own_ jam." The song swapped to one with a smoother beat and a female voice purring out description after description of a supposed 'bad guy'. Hizashi turned a knob on his directional speaker, and Aizawa imagined something nasty was on its way, even as Mic sang along, mimicking her voice with his Quirk. His lithe body swayed in time with the music. "_I'm the bad guy… Dah~!"_

The song continued as Eraserhead reached the column, only to find his capture weapon had been caught on an attached blade. Attachable knives? He'd never imagined the blond capable of something so rudimentary yet ingenious.

_"I'm the bad guy… Dah~!"_

He pulled out his own knife and severed part of his capture weapon, frustrated that he no longer had the maximum range on it. Was this how Hizashi was planning to counter him? By forcing him to keep cutting the weapon shorter and shorter?

_"I'm only good at being bad~"_

The blond was still harmlessly dancing and singing along to the song, clicking his fingers in time with the beat. Anyone else might've thought he was being immature, but Aizawa knew something _bad _was coming his way. He still had his trump card, but-

The music went abruptly silent and Hizashi stilled, his finger pointed directly at Eraserhead. Sensing the worst, he tried to activate his Quirk, but Hizashi dropped a colourful smokebomb just in time for the bass drop.

A violent tremble wracked his body. It churned his insides and distorted his vision and made his stomach wrench. Pink smoke obscured the air. The song continued. The bass rocked the room.

If it'd been a consistent rumble, he would've fared better, but every few seconds it relented, only to drop again. He'd prepared for volume, but not for bass. Eraser forced his Quirk to activate, despite the sickening buzz, and he tried to find the Trojan Mic.

"You should've gone to more rave parties, _baby_."

He spun on his heel to face his left, only to find no one there.

_Other than that, it's just little things like throwing my voice and making things vibrate._

Shit.

Aizawa leapt to the side. Something attached to his left bicep, although the man must've been aiming for his ear. He turned his head, his Erasure Quirk finally stopping the worst of the bass as his eyes landed on the villain. Hizashi's mask was down, but his malicious grin was indistinguishable from the fake one.

Eraserhead grabbed him by the arm and swung them both down, shoving Hizashi's face into the ground as he pinned him. "It's over, Mic."

The man rumbled with _laughter_. "You can be so cute sometimes, my love." From the corner of his vision, he saw something flash green on his arm, and an unexpected pain stabbed through him. "Hope you like my Hearing-Nail. Works best when it hooks into your ear canal, but it would be useless if that was the_ only_ time it did any damage."

Eraserhead bared his teeth, "You talk too much."

More laughter and he offered a devilish grin from the pavement, "That's not what you said last night."

A strange sensation coursed through his left arm. It started as a tingle, turned into a vibration, and devolved into roaring pain. The thrumming continued. His body was suddenly crumpling towards it.

Hizashi rolled beneath him without warning. Eraserhead's face slammed into the ground, grazing his cheek and denting his goggles, and his mind struggled to catch up with what'd happened. He heard the blond put some distance between them rather than saw it, and his fingers clenched around the vibrating device in his arm as he wrenched it out. The vibrating needle relented and the pain in his arm subsided, even if only slightly.

"Shattered like glass!" cooed Hizashi as he danced near him. "Aren't sonic weapons _fun_?"

Eraser was up and in front of him in seconds, much to the blond's clear surprise. His boot connected with the side of Hizashi's face. The villain slammed into a column, but managed to drop to one knee to keep himself from falling prone.

Aizawa pulled out some caltrops and threw them around the villain's feet, to give himself a moment to assess his left arm. The humerus must've been badly damaged, putting the entire limb out of commission. Still, he imagined the situation would've been impossibly worse had he successfully placed the 'nail' behind his ear.

Eraserhead put the disc between his teeth and bit it in half, before he used a portion of his capture weapon to tie the broken arm against his chest.

The villain pulled himself to his feet, but his glasses were lying partway across the room, beyond the field of caltrops. He pulled his mask back up, even though the left speaker was caved in from the blow.

He pressed a button on his speaker and a new song began, something fast paced and thundering as he swished his hands. "You're doing so well, _baby_," cooed the villain through the array of room speakers. "But I think you can do_ better_ than this."

No matter what tech he made, Hizashi was still a far-ranged fighter. Even with one arm down, so long as Eraser kept him at close-range, he'd have the upper-hand. He raced at the blond, his mind quickly mapping out a direct path between his caltrops, and he pulled his capture weapon forward. To his surprise, Hizashi didn't try to dodge.

The fabric wrapped around the column and his leather-clad body, ensnaring him against the surface with his arms pinned to his sides. Aizawa was quickly in front of him, his hair flaring as he grabbed a fistful of blond and forced his head back. Hizashi laughed through the speakers, "Looks like you caught me, Sho~"

Shouta grabbed the edge of the mask with his teeth and wrenched it down. The blond's face was bruising where the hero had kicked him with his steel-capped boot, but the damage could've definitely been worse – the left speaker had taken the brunt of the damage. "I don't think you're putting your all into this, Mic."

The villain grinned. "We're just warming up."

Eraserhead leaned forward and kissed him. It was a desperate kiss, used mostly as an excuse to rest his eyes for a few moments, and it seemed to work. There was too much teeth, too much nipping and biting and sucking, as they both put all their emotions into it: their final kiss.

Aizawa wished it didn't have to end, but when a (freed) hand pressed against his cheek, that was the moment he knew things were about to get serious. There was a cold disc at the centre of the fingerless-glove.

He leapt away and instantly reactivated his Quirk. Hizashi's face was red, with saliva slicking his kiss-swollen lips, and he was grinning like a madman. "I guess the warmup's over. Give me everything you've got, _Eraserhead, _or I won't be satisfied_."_

Mic slammed his freed left palm against the beam and a sonic wave echoed from his glove. Lines of destruction shot through the column, disintegrating it, while Hizashi's other hand grabbed Aizawa's capture weapon.

He saw the visible spark of electricity around his right glove and watched as it coursed through the fabric, directly for him. His hand reached for his knife, but it was impossible to outpace the current as it coursed through his body and knocked him back. He grinded his teeth as his muscles spasmed painfully with the current, but it was dispersed into the ground quickly, drawn towards the metal of his shoes.

Hizashi hummed regretfully as he pulled his mask back up and released the capture weapon so he could fiddle with the glove. The material retracted back around Aizawa. "Guess I didn't set it high enough," he said ruefully. "Oh well, next time it'll do the trick~"

Aizawa's body shook as he forced himself to his feet, his teeth clenched together so tightly his gums were uncomfortable. "There won't be a next time," he murmured as he pulled a device from his pocket and flicked the switch.

Red lights flashed on the ceiling above and water poured down inside the enclosed room.

Hizashi looked up, his eyes widening at the sight of it, but Aizawa noticed the rise in his cheeks. Beneath the mask, he was_ smiling_. "Brings back memories, doesn't it?"

"You can't use electricity without risking yourself, Trojan Mic. Remember, one of us needs to get out alive."

The villain laughed. "I guess you're right, _Dearest Listener._" He pressed a button on his speaker and from the corners of the room emerged thick plumes of smoke. "Not to worry," he said in a sing-song voice as the machines filled the room, the water doing little to alleviate the constant flow. Eraserhead soon couldn't see a thing. "The party's just getting started~!"

-o-

Hizashi really was fighting against multiple heroes. Eraserhead wouldn't've been able to overload the emergency sprinklers without help – this had that fan's name all over it. So, his electric attacks were now useless, unless he didn't mind frying himself in the process (which he did). His headphones would also suffer, since he hadn't had enough time to properly waterproof them, but he had some time before they were completely waterlogged.

The smoke machines filled the air, and Hizashi swapped the tune to something booming that would mask the sound of his footsteps as he walked around the caltrops and picked up his pair of glasses. He made clicking sounds with his mouth, giving the hero the impression he was using his echolocation, when it reality he just had to press a small button on his orange specs.

The vision of the room shifted through the lenses. He expected to see the infrared heat-signature of the hero when he turned, but was surprised to find nothing lit up. He turned his head this way and that, but no matter where he looked he couldn't see the red that would belong to Eraserhead. Had the hero fled the room? No, he'd never run from this battle.

Something solid cracked against Hizashi's arm. He flew forward into the wall, his body slamming against the solid surface. Pain echoed through him, but he peeled himself away just in time to yell out, "**_RUDE!"_**

His voice sent smoke sailing away, along with a human-figure, and the sound of crunching against the opposite wall spoke of some success.

Things were serious now. If he found himself in a close-ranged fight with Eraserhead, he'd have to call in that favour with Kurogiri sooner than expected.

He rolled his shoulder to test it – it hurt, but was far from unusable. Nothing broken. The outline of Aizawa pulled itself from the wall and ducked behind another pillar.

"You can't hide from **_ME!_**" His voice hit the pillar and sent it flying. It slammed into the wall, but the structure held, although there was no sign of a crushed Eraserhead beneath it. Wait, where had he gone? He pulled his mask down and threw his voice around the room. "You got some sort of cloaking device?" he called from the left. "Or is it something sneakier?" he asked from the right.

His feet walked him through the room; if he stayed in one spot the hero would find him. He'd have to use his echolocation at this point, but the falling water would throw off his pinpoint accuracy. Hizashi's mouth began to click, and not two seconds later, a steel-capped boot was flying at his face. This time he brought his arms up to block it, but when he did he left his lower-half wide open. The capture weapon wrapped around his waist, lurched him forward, and the hero's other boot connected with his stomach.

The wind was knocked from his lungs as his body was simultaneously pushed back and pulled forward. He tried to use his Quirk, but Erasure must've been active, for no destruction emerged.

Still, he'd been watching Shouta Aizawa for weeks now, and he'd known the capture weapon would be an issue. From his own belt, the villain drew his own titanium knife, structured just like Eraserhead's, designed to cut instantly through the material.

He wrenched the cloth apart and, rather than jump back to a safe distance, he swung the blade at the hero. It was a stupid decision, but the sheer audacity of it paid off as his knife briefly sunk into flesh.

Despite the success, a hand grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him forward. Eraserhead smashed their foreheads together, surely injuring them both, and another kick in the gut sent Hizashi flying. He skidded across the ground, cursing in agony when several caltrops pierced his arm through the leather jacket.

He pulled himself to his feet and quickly glanced at the imbedded metal –_ hooked_ caltrops. As much as they hurt, Hizashi would have to remove them _later_. At least his arm was still usable. He'd successfully stabbed Eraserhead, that was for sure. He didn't know where yet, but there was blood on his knife.

The fight was turning miserable, thanks to the downpour. His hair was soaking wet, his headphones were beginning to distort and cut out, the small speakers he'd set up were dying, and the floor was covered in mounting puddles.

He'd lose the sensory advantage soon enough. Even with the smoke machines, Aizawa would be able to hear his movements over the wet terrain. Whether Aizawa had thought this far ahead when he'd rigged the system was difficult to tell, but ultimately unimportant.

The Trojan Mic scanned the room for his heat signature, but again it looked like he was alone. His breathing was ragged from being winded and from the pain of the hooks in his arm. Even if he stood completely still, Eraserhead would find him. Still, he could use his Quirk for now.

"Shouta," he said in Nemuri's voice, throwing it so it was beside one of the entrances. "I'm here to help!" He'd used interviews of the hero Midnight to figure out her major voice patterns, so the sound was perfect. "I can knock him out with my Quirk, just hold on!"

A hand grabbed Hizashi from behind and forcibly pinned him against a wall, his own hands caught beneath him. He gasped in pain as a knife pressed against his back, while his own blade dropped to the ground. "You might know her voice, villain, but you don't know the first real thing about my friend." It was sexy, really. With one arm useless, Aizawa had to use his entire body to pin him against the wall, just so he could still threaten him with the knife. His voice was pained too – he must've stabbed him in a decent spot.

"So cute," purred the villain with a grin. "Why the knife, hero? Careful, you might accidentally stab me~"

"I'm going to save you," reminded Eraserhead, "and if I have to stab you a few times to do that, then-"

"I don't mean to interrupt, baby, but you've_ already_ stabbed me plenty of times, and nothing's helped~" He leaned back into Aizawa's weight, relishing the sharp press of the knife biting into his skin. "You know you can't win this," he said quietly, his voice that of Hizashi without any Quirk to change it. "You can't win _because_ you're a hero. Every move I make is to kill you, but you have to hold back. That difference is going to assure my victory."

The knife pressed deeper. He could feel hot blood running down his clothes, mixing with the cold water that rained above. Was it all his, or did some belong to Shouta? "That's never stopped me before. I'm going to bridge the gap this time." Water trickled through their hair, down their faces and into their mouths. It was cold – so _cold_ – but the blood felt so hot. "Remember what you said? I see the good in you. I'm your olive branch; your voice of reason. We're both _drowning_, Hizashi, but you're not dragging me down: you're the only thing keeping me afloat." He pressed his face against the villain's back and his words made him ache more than the pain. "You're _my _bridge, Hizashi Yamada. You're my burning bridge, but I will douse the fire, even if it costs me my final breath."


	31. Water (Part Two)

Chapter Thirty-One

Water (Part 2)

"We're both drowning, Hizashi, but you're not dragging me down: you're the only thing keeping me afloat. You're my bridge, Hizashi Yamada. You're my burning bridge, but I will douse the fire, even if it costs me my final breath."

Hizashi trembled. How easy it would've been to give in to those words, to believe they were true, but he could see further than Shouta Aizawa. Ever since they'd met, nothing had healed: something had been _broken_ in the hero. There was a sickness inside him, and the villain fuelled it.

If Hizashi was a fire, then their love was the smoke in Shouta's eyes.

"The villain's supposed to have the best monologues, Eraserhead," he complained. The knife in his back pressed deeper. Damn it hurt so _good_.

It hurt so _fucking good._

With his palm pressed firmly against the wall, he activated the sonic boom, the power set to high. The wall exploded and both villain and hero hurled back with the debris. Hizashi took the brunt of the impact, but it had been necessary to escape Eraserhead's grip.

His head was ringing and he ached all over. One of the caltrops had ripped from his arm, leaving warmth running through his sleeve, and his titanium knife was gone. The lights on his headphones went out, one by one, as the water finally destroyed them, but he didn't remove them – they would protect his hearing-aids from the downpour. Hot blood ran down his back. The hero had cut up his nice jacket too.

He wrenched his aching body from the ground and repositioned his glasses, just in time to see Aizawa's red glow disappear_ above_. So, that's where he'd been hiding – those new shoes weren't just for display.

"Something to climb walls," called out the Trojan Mic, his voice echoing around the room so he couldn't be located. At least the smoke machines were water resistant. "My fan has outdone herself! Wanna tell me how they work?"

He should've predicted the sprinkler system, but he hadn't. His Directional Speaker and mask were the only waterproof support gear he had, as well as the sonic weapon on his left glove, although that would need time to recharge before he could use it again.

Hizashi pulled out another attachable-knife and stuck it to the nearest column. Whenever he used echolocation, Aizawa could pinpoint him immediately, but that was what the villain wanted this time.

He pulled a smokebomb from his back pocket and slipped a hand beneath one headphone to carefully adjust a hearing-aid. Hizashi closed his eyes to concentrate on the sound of his clicks echoing around the room. The water made it difficult to properly pinpoint everything in the room, but if he just thought about the hero, he could see him. Yes, a shape hiding in the corner of the room. No, he'd launched himself and was now only-

Hizashi dropped the smokebomb and pivoted on his heel.

"**_FOUND YOU~!" _**The hero flew back, into the column, his body sinking on the knife Hizashi had just set up. He'd fallen for-

The capture weapon wrapped around him and pulled him against the hero's chest. There was the sound of electronics tearing and a pressure against his throat. Realisation came moments later.

Eraser's knife and entire hand were embedded in his Directional Speaker. The blade had barely come short of his neck. His eyes fell on Eraser's right hand, trembling and covered in blood from where jagged pieces of metal were rooted in the flesh. He looked up at his face.

"I love you," breathed the hero, his eyes red, a grin making its way onto his lips, "but sometimes you really do t-talk too much."

Hizashi winced. His voice was, once again, limited to his sense of self-preservation.

The capture weapon fell away, just as Aizawa kicked out his boot. The steel tip caught his left leg and Hizashi's body swam with pain as he crumpled to the floor. He had no time to brace himself as Eraser's other leg shot forward and caught him in the ribcage.

He skirted across the ground, two more caltrops tearing from his arm, although the real issue was the pain in his leg and chest. Hizashi managed to pull himself up, despite the utter agony. A leg fracture, he quickly diagnosed, but not a complete break. Maybe two or three broken ribs.

He turned off the broken speaker, before the internal electrics got waterlogged, and noticed Aizawa's knife was still stuck inside. Aizawa hadn't been able to free it, but Hizashi was able to wrench it out. He searched for the hero, but Eraserhead had already pulled himself from the column and disappeared. A line of blood ran down the pillar. The attached-knife was bloodied to the hilt.

Where had he stabbed? Something vital? Hopefully it wasn't. God he hoped it wasn't.

What was he thinking? He was in shock from the pain. He _wanted _it to be something vital. He was there to _kill_ Eraserhead.

The world had to _burn_.

The speakers around the room stopped one-by-one, but his body swayed along to imagined music, something he'd once danced to in his kitchen as he'd made Shouta Aizawa breakfast. It was time to misbehave. It was time to set everything on fire.

It was time.

If Aizawa was hiding in the shadows, then he'd _get rid of the shadows._

His right arm felt numb, no doubt due to blood loss paired with the cold sprinklers, but he still had enough strength in it to hold the knife, hidden against his wrist.

From his jacket he pulled a trigger. "Are you ready, Eraserhead?" he drawled as he dragged his mask back on – at least the speaker there still worked. There was no need to hide his position anymore. "It's time for the real test. Let's see what's stronger – your water, or my flames."

He pressed the switch.

The incendiary explosives he'd stored in each portable speaker lit up at once. Several columns instantly collapsed. The room was gutted by the roar. It was loud, and he'd wished he'd turned his hearing-aids off for it, but that thought hadn't even crossed his mind moments ago.

Hizashi flicked a switch on his glasses as the great flames reared, the heat undeterred by the cold sprinklers. Now there was nowhere for Aizawa to hide. The flames burned so bright as they crawled up the walls.

"Come on out, sweetie," he called through the one remaining speaker on his mask.

A figure dropped down from above, body slouching far too much, but altogether the landing was neat. The water was turning red at the hero's feet. His right sleeve had completely seared away, revealing the skin across his right elbow to be badly burned. His broken left arm was still wrapped up, while his right hand was cut up badly, with pieces of jagged metal still stuck in the flesh.

Wow, he was bleeding a lot. Too much? Oh god, he was. There was too much blood and… Shouta, fuck, Shouta, was-

Hizashi bowed low, his fractured leg nearly giving way beneath him. If he kept this up, there was a chance he'd completely break it, but there was no way he was going to give this fight less than his all, even if it destroyed him.

The hero ran at him, sending out his capture weapon while his hair flared around him. If he fought the hero in a hand-to-hand fight, Eraserhead would win. But there was one small advantage the Trojan Mic had over him…

_There's a switch in you. One moment you're Hizashi … and the next…_

He was a **_villain._**

Shouta's love was the smoke in his eyes.

"Shouta," he said breathlessly, filling each word with dripping sentiment, "I love you, baby."

There it was. A moment of hesitation. One slip in the carefully defined hero that would bring about the end of the fight, and the end of Eraserhead forever.

-x-

The fire had temporarily blinded him, even with his goggles. His senses were still shaken from the blond's bass attack earlier in the fight, and the sudden sensory overload had been disturbing.

Only his quick reflexes had saved him from being completely caught in the incendiary explosions, and even then he'd been unable to escape unharmed. His right elbow kept him in constant agony and the hand was worryingly numb, although unburnt. He'd been stabbed in the right shoulder, and somewhere in the back – he couldn't tell where exactly, but the amount of blood told him it was a concerning injury.

"Come on out, sweetie," called the Trojan Mic.

With nowhere left to hide, Eraserhead was forced from the shadows. Mei's boots had served him well, but their use was over. He dropped down before the blond, Quirk active, prepared for the final showdown.

Hizashi looked just as bad as he did.

His right arm was leaking so much blood, and he was subconsciously curling his body to the left, thanks to the broken ribs. His hair was a mess, his face bruising already, and he was clearly favouring his right leg over the left. His lover bowed and for a moment Aizawa thought he'd fall over, but he didn't.

The fire danced across his distorted features, just as it had that fateful night fifteen years ago.

Eraserhead had to end this now. The blond couldn't use his Quirk, and most of his tech was useless, although he had to avoid Hizashi's left hand, lest he get hit by that sonic attack. As he raced towards the blond, his bloody fist high, he aimed for his right side.

"Shouta," said his everything, and the utter agony in Hizashi's voice made his heart wrench, "I love you, baby."

Shouta Aizawa did the worst thing imaginable: he hesitated.

He loved him too. He loved him so much, and if he'd just held out his hand to Hizashi Yamada all those years ago, this fight would've never been necessary.

No, why _was _it necessary?

They needed help. They _both _needed **_help_**_._

They could've gotten help together.

They could have tried.

They _should_ have.

Together.

They-

**_!_**

He hadn't seen his own knife in Hizashi's right hand, but he felt it sink into his gut, just above his navel.

His capture weapon wrapped around the villain, but almost instantly fell away. Aizawa felt his hair slump about his shoulders, and although a voice told him he should activate his Quirk again, his body refused to obey.

The ground was cold and sodden. _He _was cold and sodden. _Why was he on the ground?_ Aizawa was always tired, but now wasn't a good time to sleep. Hizashi needed his help. _Or did he?_ _Where were they? _The cold was growing pleasantly warmer.

His body was rolled over, and he was thankful for that. Oh, it was raining. Had rain been on the forecast? _How was it raining inside?_ It didn't matter. This view was_**perfect**_. Hizashi Yamada was leaning over him. His lover was with him, so maybe he _could_ sleep after all.

But that mask… Right, they'd been fighting.

He'd lost.

Shouta was **_dying._**

Eraserhead had **_lost._**

"Hizashi," he managed, tasting blood in his mouth. He needed to do something, he needed to- _Nemuri. _He needed to contact Nemuri, but all he could think of at that moment was the codeword. "…Coffee…" He hoped he'd said the word loud enough to activate the transmitter. He should've involved her sooner. Eraserhead had stupidly believed he'd be enough to save his lover and he'd been so stupidly wrong.

"Eraserhead…" quietly said the blond, and he almost thought he'd imagined the voice. A hand pulled his goggles away, almost tenderly, but then something wet and warm pressed against his throat – his own knife, slick with blood. When had Hizashi removed it?

It would've been nice to die quickly – _this _was agony – but Shouta Aizawa wanted to see the blond's beautiful face for as long as life allowed. No words came to his lips, but a tune did: an English song Hizashi had once hummed on a perfect night in a museum, one they'd listened to as they'd cooked ramen together and made breakfast.

He gently hummed it, _wishing_ it would be enough.

This would be the final breath Eraserhead would spend trying to save Hizashi Yamada.

-o-

Shouta was barely audible, but Hizashi would've recognised that song anywhere.

**_The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms. But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken, and I hung my head and I cried._**

Heat was running down his face, and it took Hizashi a moment longer to realise he was crying. "Eraser," he said, his voice nearly breaking. It didn't stop the hero from humming, his heavy eyes never looking away from Hizashi.

**_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away._**

"Fuck, Sho, fuck!" Hizashi threw the knife away and moved to his side, ignoring the pain in his leg and chest as his hands pressed against the wound. Fuck, there was so much blood. He must've hit something vital. Fuck, there was _too much blood._

**_I'll always love you and make you happy, if you will only say the same. But if you leave me, to love another, you'll regret it all someday._**

He put pressure on the wound, to stop him from bleeding out, but he was surprised when a shaking hand reached up and clumsily pulled down his mask. Hizashi stared into Aizawa's tired face – he was _smiling_.

**_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you, please don't take my sunshine away._**

"I'm sorry," spluttered the blond as he pressed harder. "Sho, I'm sorry! Look at me, baby, stay with me! Third option! Think of our third option, baby!" The flames he'd lit only minutes ago were growing weaker, the water from above slowly emerging victorious. "I need you… Fuck, Sho, baby, I _love _you! I _need you_!"

The fire was dying.

**_You told me once, dear, you really loved me, and no one else could come between, but now you've left me and love another, you have shattered all my dreams._**

The door barged open and heavy footsteps rushed inside. "Present Mic!" called the voice of Nemuri. "You're-"

"**_SHUT UP AND HELP HIM_**_!" _Hizashi yelled, his Quirk shaking the walls. Shit. He looked down – Aizawa was still smiling at him, his eyes flickering as he struggled to stay awake. His humming never stopped, even as blood bubbled around his lips – it was so quiet now.

He'd removed Hizashi's mask so Nemuri could stop him. Even in his dying moments, he was still trying to be a hero.

Hizashi had to escape. He still had the tracker for Kurogiri! He just had to press it and he would escape in seconds, before they could-

But if he let up, for even a moment, Shouta would finally bleed out.

**_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are grey…_**

"I give up!" Hizashi sobbed as Nemuri ran to him, already ripping part of her costume to use her Quirk. "I give up! Save him! Fuck, save him! I'll do _anything_! _Please! __**I give up!**__"_

**_You'll never know dear, how much I love you…_**

Her hands pressed around his, even as a sweet scent filled his senses. His body grew heavy, oh so heavy, but he fought against it with all he had left. He could hear others around them, others rushing in – whether they were there to capture him or to save Shouta, he couldn't bring himself to care. He watched in agony as the Quirk took over his lover, forced him to sleep, ended his humming, and the villain wasn't far behind. Hizashi collapsed at his side in a pool of water and blood.

Everything ended as it had begun: in fire and tears and regret.

But this time, the fire went out.

**_Please don't take my sunshine away._**


	32. Isotonic Saline

Chapter Thirty-Two

Isotonic Saline

When Hizashi awoke, there was a bright light above him. Maybe this time he'd_ really_ died and gone to heaven/hell. He certainly wasn't in a hallway…

When he glanced around, he realised where he really was. A hospital room, with bars on the windows, and several odd camera devices aimed directly at him. Okay, a _prison_ hospital room. The devices must've been trained to stop him if he tried to use his Quirk, although he didn't plan to test out the theory – it was better than a muzzle.

He looked down at his body, but nothing really hurt. Painkillers, he told himself, strong ones judging by his slow thought process. His right arm was tied in bandages and there was a slim cast on his left leg. Although he wasn't chained to anything, he doubted there was any chance he could get out of bed without setting off some sort of alarm.

An IV drip was connected to his arm, but when he looked at the opaque bag, he couldn't read any of the lettering. Where were his glasses? He looked at the bedside table, but didn't see anything resembling his specs. _Great._

Everything was quiet too – too quiet. Right, he wasn't wearing his hearing-aids. The world was a blur and he couldn't hear anything. How the mighty had fallen…

With nothing better to do, he tried to arrange his thoughts. He'd _surrendered_. He'd never thought his villainous pursuits would end in him willingly handing himself over to the heroes, but here he was, helpless in a prison hospital bed.

The memory of Shouta dying in a pool of blood constricted his chest. Fuck, he felt sick. There had to be some sort of attendee button. Why was he alone? Fuck, shit, where was Shouta? Fuck, where was he? Had he survived? Fuck, fuck, fuck!

The door suddenly opened. Despite the blur, he recognised Nemuri as she entered the room in full hero costume, with an unknown woman trailing beside her. He opened his mouth to talk, but she put her hand up to silence him. The other woman moved forward with a pair of hearing-aids and, although they weren't his, he didn't rebuff them.

Midnight refused to say anything until the hearing-aids were in and properly adjusted, despite his clear distress. Soon they were set, and the audiologist left the hero and the patient alone to talk.

"Present Mic," Midnight said as soon as the door closed, clearly unsure of what tone to use. "We need-"

"Is he okay?" he asked desperately, his patience at its limit. "Please, tell me he's okay!" He forced himself to keep his Quirk in check while the cameras watched him, but it was difficult.

She looked away, pained. "You're the one who _did that_ to him, Yamada. You're the one who_ broke_ him. Isn't this what you wanted all along?"

He hesitated. His mind filled with thoughts of the barista, of Shouta Aizawa smiling, of their foreheads pressed together, of everything he adored about the tired, miraculous man.

"I love him," he choked out. "I love him, more than I need to kill him, and I didn't realise that until it was too-" He shivered. "Please, Nemuri, tell me it's _not too late._" He was bordering on tears. "_Please. _I need him to be okay. I need him to-"

"Shouta's alive."

His chest nearly erupted with relief. He clenched his teeth together and burning tears poured from his eyes. He was _alive…_

"But you've put him through _hell_. Even our best healing Quirks and surgeons are struggling to repair the damage you've done to him. He's still asleep – the doctors think they'll have to keep him under for a _month_." She exhaled, to cool her emotions. "He'll live, but his left arm and his right hand… Hizashi, you messed him up _badly, _and I had to tell the Hero Commission _everything_. He's been harbouring a villain – a _dangerous _villain. A pro-hero _can't do that sort of thing_. His … His hero license was…" She inhaled so deeply, to force out what she needed to say. "They've permanently rescinded his license: he won't_ ever _be a hero again."

Hizashi felt cold. "You mean…"

She nodded. "Shouta's alive, but congratulations: you killed Eraserhead after all."

He ached at that knowledge. He'd done what he'd set out to do. His goal from the very start was achieved, and he'd _never_ forgive himself for it. "…I'm sorry."

"You've been out for three days. I've been taking care of your cat, and will do so until Aizawa's well enough to get discharged." He couldn't even feel any relief at the news Boots would be okay. He felt sick. "Tell me, Hizashi Yamada, what was Shouta's sacrifice for? You said you'd give anything to save him. Well, we've saved him, as best we can, so what're you going to do for us?"

"Lock me up," he told her, his voice as shaky as his body. "His sacrifice won't be for nothing, because you're going to lock me up and throw away the key. I'll _never_ be able to hurt anyone ever again, not with my Quirk and not with my tech. No one else. Eraserhead will be the last to _ever_ be hurt by me." His chest ached so badly, and it wasn't from the broken ribs. "But before that, please, Nemuri, I… I want to see him. I _need _to see him, just once."

"No." He froze. "I told Shouta that if I arrested you, I'd _never_ let you see each other again. You're _bad _for each other, Yamada. You bring out the best, but you also bring out the worst, and I can't see Shouta dragged through this again. You… You **_hurt_** him. You claim you hurt him because you loved him, but _that's not love._"

"Please," he begged. "I do love him. I won't ever hurt him again! I'll do _anything_, Nemuri. I need to see him, just once, then you can lock me up forever! _That moment_ can't be the last time! If I never see him again, then he might as well be dead!"

She pulled a whip from her belt and cracked it, startling him into silence. "Are you even listening to yourself? He_ 'might as well be dead'_? It's that mentality that's** destroyed** you **both**! You need _help_! _Both _of you need _help, _and I'm as much to blame for all this as you are. I should've done more for Shouta." Her voice cracked. "I should've done _far_ more, and so I'm going to do everything I can now. You're a villain, Present Mic, and you're going to pay for your crimes in whatever way we deem fit."

He trembled. "Please, Nemuri… I'm … I'm not Present Mic anymore, or the Trojan Bat, or anyone other than Hizashi Yamada. I'll do anything to see him again, even if he hates me… I just… I need to tell him how sorry I am. I need to tell him that he _saved_ me. His last hero act, his last heroic sacrifice, was saving the man who started his hero path fifteen years ago. He needs to know."

She put the whip away and slumped into the visitor chair, a hefty weight on her shoulders. "I can't let you see him… You've been given a life sentence, but as much as I want to lock you up forever… Hizashi, you're **_useful_**_."_

He stared at her in shock and his stomach churned at the prospect. _No_, he didn't want to be _'useful'_. He wanted to disappear, wanted to _die. _It was a paradox: he wanted to see Shouta so desperately, yet never wanted to see him again.

He didn't want to be _'useful'._

"You say you're not a villain anymore?" she said firmly. "Prove it. Prove to _me _you want to do good, that his sacrifice wasn't for nothing, because just locking you up _isn't good enough_. I could've… _should've _locked you up long ago. We're beyond that. If I lock you up now, it won't justify Shouta's sacrifice at all."

"What're you talking about…?"

She swallowed, clearly forcing out the words, "There's a rehabilitation program, set up by my boss, Nezu, but it's still in the early stages. We need our first guinea pig. If you want to prove to everyone that even a villain like you can change, then…"

"No, _please_, just lock me up," he said, his voice wavering. "I don't… I _cant'. _I _can't _trust myself. Fuck, Nemuri, he was _dying._" He looked at his hands and could remember the hot red life smeared across them; it would forever stain his fingers. "He was dying and-"

"A letter," she said firmly, catching him by surprise. "Agree to do this program, and I'll let you write him a letter. You can tell him what you need to say. I swear to you it won't be censored, or altered, or rejected in any way, and I'll give it to him the same day you give it to me."

"…Nemuri…"

"You said you aren't a villain anymore, that you're just Hizashi Yamada and no one else. We're going to prove you've changed, that you still have a value in our world."

Fuck. He'd been captured by heroes, and he was going to be forced back onto the Giran-esque assembly line. Who knew heroes were just as fucked up as villains?

Hizashi couldn't stop himself from _laughing_. It was a distorted sound, broken, that echoed around the room and made the cameras shudder. Midnight had to jump up and quickly key something into the side of a screen, no doubt to stop whatever Quirk alarm he'd just set off, but he couldn't stop laughing.

Life was fucked up.

He'd killed a hero and they wanted to _rehabilitate _him because he was _useful__._

"Hizashi."

He ended his laughter. Despite the strong painkillers, his broken ribs spread muffled agony through his chest, and his body was quaking with distress. "Tell your boss to go fuck himself."

It was Midnight's turn to laugh, a hollow sound that spoke of her lessening patience, as she approached the bed. She pressed one hand against his chest and pinned him to the mattress, putting more painful pressure on his broken ribs. He gasped in pain.

"So, tell me, what did Shouta like about you anyway? Your pretty face? Your pretty eyes? He's always been a sucker for blonds. You should've seen the guys he slept with in his twenties. Guess his taste never matured." Hizashi gritted his teeth at her, unsure of where she was going with this. "I thought maybe Shouta saw something more in you, but it turns out he lost his license because he couldn't control his dick around a hot piece of ass."

She pressed down on his chest and agony rushed through him. "D-Didn't," he forced out and her hand eased up. "Shouta loved me for me!"

"Really? Because all I see now is a pretty blond husk. How could he fall for something that isn't there?" Her hand pulled away and he trembled. "There_ is_ more beneath you, Hizashi," her voice was softer, "some redeeming qualities Shouta must've seen. _I've _seen them too. If we didn't think you were capable of rehabilitation, we wouldn't be extending this olive branch, so I suggest you stop being an idiot and take it while it's on the table."

She was good: _sadistic, _but _good._

She pulled out her phone and fiddled with it. "The rehabilitation we're planning involves pairing a 'redeemable' villain with one of our students, under specific conditions and circumstances, of course. The student and villain will go through constant psychological testing to ensure the villain is the one being rehabilitated and that the student isn't falling under the 'influence' of the villain, and of course the student and villain are carefully selected. Nezu looked over your profile and thought you'd be a perfect starting point. You'll still be in prison, of course, but depending on how successful the rehabilitation project is, we might be able to shave down your life sentence."

"…What am I supposed to do?"

"Teach the student everything you know. You're very famous for your tech. You could do a lot of good with it, especially if you're working for Hero HQ, and there's a student who's already jumping at the chance to study under you."

"…Why bother?"

Her voice had softened, although there was an unbearable sadness she kept just below the surface. "You'll get help, the help you need. If you need therapy, you'll get it. If you need medication, you'll get it. We can help you, but you'll have to help us too."

"Nemuri… I can't…"

"A letter," she persisted. "_Please_, Hizashi. I know it's a lot to ask but… I _can't _accept a 'no'."

His hands trembled. He really was in hell. "A letter…" he finally conceded.

Nemuri looked relieved. "Hizashi, I'm sorry for this, but it'll be for the best. You shouldn't change because you fell in love with an idiot who couldn't take care of himself. Don't change because you think you don't have any other option." She held out the phone and he shakily took it – he could just make out an image of a girl with pink dreadlocks and an eager grin. "This is Mei Hatsume, and she's your biggest fan. Hizashi … change for _her_."

-x-

When Aizawa awoke, he thought he was in hell. Even in his darkest days at the coffeeshop, when he'd been severely sleep-deprived and barely hanging on, he'd never felt _this _**bad**.

He just wanted to sleep more, but he needed to check on Hizashi, to make sure he hadn't hurt him too badly – he'd never forgive himself if he had. Even so, when he opened his eyes, he instantly knew where he really was: a hospital.

It was a nice one, with more high-tech equipment than the typical room. Right, one of the special rooms at Hero HQ no doubt. Well, if he was here, his injuries must've been bad. His mind told him to assess his condition, as tired as he was, and he did so mainly through years of conditioning.

His left arm had a brace around the humerus, and when he tried to move it, he found he couldn't. That wasn't a good sign… He tested his legs and, although sluggish and stiff, they moved without any pain. Right, he hadn't been injured there, so that made sense.

His next wound to check over was his right arm – a horrible burn scar covered his entire elbow, although it had been healed to now look like an old wound. He tested moving it and, although his joints were a little stiff, he could move the limb without issue. His right hand was wrapped in bandages too – right, he'd cut it up badly when he'd destroyed Hizashi's speaker. It felt numb, but he didn't dwell too much on it. Where else had he been injured? Oh, in the shoulder and in the back and…

Aizawa got out of bed and almost instantly collapsed. Dammit, how long had he been out? Where was Hizashi? No, his hero training told him first he needed to finish checking himself over. He did some minor leg exercises on the floor, which was where the nurse found him when they opened the door a few minutes later.

The nurse stared, paused in shock and then slammed the door as they ran to get a doctor. Shouta groaned and tried to get up again, finally with some success, although his legs were still shaky. How long _had _he been out? Was Hizashi okay? He had to know.

Shouta tried the door, but it was firmly locked. Aizawa tried to unlock it, but he was struggling to properly control his right hand. Had it been more injured than he'd realised? He banged against the door with his foot instead. "Is anyone there? I need to see Hizashi Yamada. Open up."

He heard approaching footsteps and the door clicked as it was unlocked. Aizawa moved back as the door opened and a doctor walked in with the nurse just behind him. "Shouta Aizawa," the doctor breathed and gestured at the bed, "please sit down."

"I need to see Hizashi Yamada," he said instead, clearly _not _returning to the bed. "I need to know if he's okay."

"Mr. Yamada isn't at this hospital, so his condition isn't our concern. Sit down."

Shouta balked. His hair rose from his shoulders and his eyes burned as anger roared through him. "Tell me where he is! Is he okay? I need to know he's okay!"

The doctor was unperturbed as he pulled out a buzzer from his back pocket and typed away on it. "I'm alerting your contact that you're awake. She should be here soon." His contact? That would be Nemuri. Had Hizashi escaped? Had Midnight arrested him? Oh god, what if Hizashi was… "I need to talk to you about _your _condition, Mr. Aizawa."

"I don't care about me," he growled. He'd never felt so stupidly exhausted before, and that wasn't an easy feat. "I need to know about _him_."

"We've kept you asleep for a month, to aid the healing process," the doctor said, despite his obvious indifference. "Recovery Girl was able to seal the most serious wounds – the one on your back and your waist. Another two inches to the right, and the former would've punctured your spine. You're lucky, in that regard at least. For the latter, you had to undergo several rounds of emergency surgery too, but we were very successful. However, we weren't able to help your _other_ injuries in time."

His hair fell. "'Other' injuries?"

"Your left arm, and your right hand. Your humerus was completely shattered, with a lot of chip fragments and minor nerve damage. It'll take time to heal, but even physiotherapy will only help so much. The limb should be perfectly usable for day-to-day activities eventually, but will never be as it was before. However, your right hand is more concerning…"

He looked to his bandaged hand and tried to curl the fingers, but he couldn't even reach his palm with his fingertips, no matter how hard he tried. The digits trembled, yet were completely numb.

"Extensive nerve damage with loss of haptic sensory information. With time and rehabilitation, you might be able to pick up objects again, but you'll always have a weakened grip. Sophisticated motor function has been completely shot. Even if by some miracle you're able to hold a pen, you'll never be able to write with it again."

Never be able to write again. Never be able to use chopsticks. Never be able to properly use his capture weapon.

He finally sat back on the bed, his eyes never leaving his right hand. "How long 'til I can go back on patrol?"

"Mr. Aizawa, your story is out. You were harbouring a dangerous villain. The physical healing process will only be the first step. We need to diagnose your mental condition_, _Mr. Aizawa. You're ill right now, but you're going to get the help you need. However, the state has seen fit to have your hero license permanently revoked. You'll never work as a hero again."

He stared at his hand. It was so tightly bandaged. Were the bandages really necessary? He couldn't even feel them. Maybe they were too tight. Were there new scars beneath the white, hidden away? Did they look anything like the scar on Hizashi's face? What would Hizashi say if he knew he'd messed up his own hand by ramming it through his Directional Speaker? He'd probably call him an idiot, and would lovingly take off the bandages and kiss the scars until Aizawa kissed him.

Hizashi.

He'd never see Hizashi again.

He'd never be a hero again.

Right now, he couldn't even be a barista.

His world had burned again, but this time there were no ashes – the rain had swept _everything_ away.

All he could do was bury his face against the bandaged hand and curse beneath his breath.

-x-

Fuck his arm, and fuck his hand, and fuck his hero license: he just needed to know Hizashi was alright, and no one was telling him _anything_. He didn't get any answers at all until Nemuri walked in, alone, wearing her hero costume.

"Shouta," she said with a heavy exhale, her eyes sparkling with relief at the sight of him sitting up in bed, "I came as fast as I could."

"Where's Hizashi?"

Another exhale and she sat herself in the visitor chair. "You're both so predictable… He's not here, Shouta. He's a villain, so they took him to the prison hospital to be treated." She saw the look on his face and she answered his next question before he even posed it. "Physically, he's fine – only a few injuries. He was awake after three days and he knows you're alive."

"Physically?"

She hesitated. "He … has a lot of mental trauma. He's guilty for what he did to you, which is better than the alternative, but… We're doing all we can to help. Time will be good for him. He's going to be okay."

Aizawa's shoulders slumped. Hizashi was going to be okay. "What're his physical injuries…?"

"Nothing as bad as yours. Some scars on his arm, some broken ribs. You did fracture his leg, but the break was simple and clean, unlike…" She glanced at his left arm, and continued. "He stopped you from bleeding out. We found a tracking device on him and we have reason to believe he could've called for backup at any moment, but he let himself get arrested so you'd have a chance at surviving. He's been given a life sentence, but he's … giving up being a villain, Shouta… You saved him. Your sacrifice wasn't for nothing."

So many emotions whirled inside him, like a hurricane, but in that moment he was at the eye of the storm.

Aizawa had won. Eraserhead had lost, but Shouta Aizawa had _won._

"It wasn't your fault, Nemuri."

"They've revoked your hero license. Your arm, your hand, your _life _will never be the same, all because I did nothing. They nearly took my license too, for being an 'accomplice'. It's a hero's job to save people … and I should've tried to save you. _I _should've saved you, not a _villain, _no matter how cute a couple you were."

"It's okay. I saved him."

She groaned and shot him a glare. "I arrested him. Remember what I said? You can't see him again."

He shuddered, but shook his head. "I don't care if I don't see him again, so long as-"

"We're going to help you_ both_. Hizashi has agreed to join Nezu's new rehabilitation program, once he's stable enough, and I'm helping as part of my community service. I'll keep you updated about his progress. You'll have help too. Even though your hero license is gone, I'm going to make sure you're still treated like the hero you are."

Aizawa shook his head, "I'm not a hero."

She looked disheartened, but knew there was no point in arguing the point.

So, it was going to be option twelve. Hizashi had been locked away by Midnight, and Aizawa would never see his sunshine again.

She kept talking, but it was impossible to focus on anything more. He was too tired.

When he'd been a child, he'd never pictured this would be his life at thirty, but here he was. Shouta's bridge was gone, and he was alone and stranded in a colourless void.


	33. BOSS Coffee

Chapter Thirty-Three

BOSS Coffee

He'd been stuck in the hospital room for three days now, staring at the calendar for May, 2019, wondering when he'd be released. Aizawa slept a lot, but barely touched the hospital food – he couldn't even hold chopsticks and he refused to be fed like a small child. There was a strange irony in returning to a diet of drinkable jelly packs after his time with Hizashi.

Nemuri visited him every day, but the only thing he wanted to hear about was the blond's progress, but there was little to tell.

In the rehabilitation program, a villain was paired with a student. It was smart, really, to have a villain befriend an innocent young hero who'd make them rethink their life choices, although it wasn't without risks. As smart as Hizashi was, he was a safe place to start: no previous hero kills, a useful tech-skill, a conscience that kept him from hurting kids, and a strong sense of empathy (if not always sympathy). Mei was an equally safe bet: she had strong convictions, was determined to become a great hero techie and the fact she was a tad morally grey than most would only help them get along. The two would do great things together.

Despite that, apparently Hizashi hadn't been deemed stable enough to meet her yet, but he knew soon he would be, and Hizashi wouldn't be lonely for much longer. Aizawa told Nemuri that his love would improve faster if they introduced her sooner, whether he was 'stable' or not, but she told him her hands were tied on the matter.

Even though it wasn't yet a reality, Aizawa could imagine it, could dream about Mei and Hizashi geeking out and bonding over the latest tech advances. He'd be a father figure, a friend, and he didn't doubt Hizashi would change because of her. He had faith in him, and Mei was strong. That alone got him through the first three days of hell.

It was late at night, but he needed to clear his head.

The first obstacle was the door. It wasn't locked anymore, but he had difficulty just turning the handle. He fiddled with it for at least a minute before he decided to kick it. The door slammed open and when he stepped out, a nurse was staring at him like she'd just seen a ghost. He rubbed his ruined hand against the back of his head. "Sorry."

"Please use the attendee button for assistance next time," she said in a small voice before hurrying on.

He leaned against the doorframe for a moment as a wave of despair washed through him. "Just to open a door…"

He needed coffee.

Aizawa wandered around the halls until he found a map, and was able to figure out how to reach the cafeteria. However, the café was closed, and the only coffee provider was a small vending machine in the empty room.

Oh, he had no money on him.

Right.

Of course.

His legs trembled. He felt something press against his forehead, and he half-heartedly realised he was leaning against the machine. Even so, he couldn't bring himself to pull away.

He'd never be a hero again.

That stung him more than he wanted to admit – far more.

Who was he if not Eraserhead? Shouta Aizawa? A tired barista who couldn't even get himself a _fucking_ coffee from a_ fucking_-

He heard the sound of money falling into the machine and a voice asked him, "What's the number?"

Aizawa pulled his face away and looked at the boy who stood beside him. He was probably about fifteen, with messy purple hair and tired eyes. His fingers hovered over the keypad, waiting for the ex-hero's answer. "…1-G."

The boy pressed the button and a can of BOSS coffee tumbled to the bottom. Aizawa tried to grab it, but the kid must've noticed his bandaged hand and useless arm, for he stooped, picked it up and opened it, before offering it to the adult.

Aizawa eyed it, and flexed his right hand as the situation dawned on him. One hand was useless, but the arm perfectly fine, while the other arm was useless, but with a working hand. Why couldn't he just have one fucked up limb and get on with life?

"I can't…" he began to say, but the kid stopped him by gesturing at a table.

"I'll get you a straw."

How the mighty had fallen… Still, the kid was only trying to help, and Aizawa wasn't going to take his frustration out on him. "Thanks. My friend'll pay you back tomorrow."

"It's 300 yen. Forget it." The kid set the drink on the table and went to grab a straw while Shouta took a seat.

"Aizawa," he introduced while he glanced around. It was late, and since it was a hospital exclusive to heroes, he and the kid were the only ones up. "You shouldn't talk to strangers, or buy them coffee."

"If I didn't talk to strangers, no one would talk to me," murmured the kid as he returned with a paper straw. "I'm Shinsou."

Drinking coffee through a straw: now he felt like an official hipster. He looked at the kid. To be in _this_ hospital, he must've been training to be a hero. Then he noticed the bruising on the kid's face, and his stomach turned. He'd seen bruising like that before…

Someone had put a Quirk muzzle on this poor kid. So, he had a vocal Quirk…

Despite the concern, it was Shinsou who asked the first question. "What happened to your arms?"

Aizawa took his first sip of coffee. So, straight to the point – a kid after Aizawa's heart. "Lovers quarrel," he said simply.

"Did you win?"

"Wouldn't be here if I hadn't. How long you in for?"

Shinsou glanced towards the vending machine. "Don't know," he said quietly. "They're still figuring out what to do with me."

"You at UA?"

The kid looked back at him, surprised, "General Studies." A bitter grin curved his mouth. "With my Quirk, I didn't have a chance at destroying the robots."

Aizawa paused. "I know that story. I was in General too, 'til I got moved to the Hero Course. Trust me, it's not impossible to be a h-…" He cut himself off as he remembered. For Aizawa, it _was _now impossible to be a hero. Fuck. "…You'll get out of General, kid, as long as you work for it. A Quirk can only take the others so far."

"I might not be at UA at all, for much longer." He looked down, face conflicted. "Sorry, I shouldn't really be saying this…"

"I work in a coffee shop," Aizawa said, his voice soft, "I don't mind hearing your problems, especially if you've got no one to talk to." He glanced around the empty cafeteria, but the look on Shinsou's face told him he'd accidentally struck a deeper chord. The kid was quiet. Aizawa sipped more of his coffee and patiently waited.

The boy shook his head. "It's nothing."

He couldn't blame him for not wanting to tell a stranger about something personal. "Thanks for the coffee," Shouta said gently. "I _will_ pay you back." The kid nodded and they sat in silence.

-x-

Aizawa convinced Nemuri to leave him plenty of change each time she visited, and so each night he met up with Shinsou for a coffee from the machine. It became a tradition, and slowly they both opened up more.

What was his Quirk? Mind Control: he could control anyone who answered him. He acted aloof when he first told Aizawa, but the barista noticed the slight hunch in his shoulders and the nervous glance away that exposed his fear.

In return, Aizawa told him about his own Quirk, and even told the kid he'd had his hero license revoked for harbouring a villain. It was odd, to give a reason to distrust in exchange for a reason to distrust, but he wasn't scared of Shinsou's power. Nothing good came from being scared of your own Quirk – Hizashi had been living proof of that.

Unlike everyone from the Hero Commission, Hitoshi had shown interest in knowing _why _Aizawa had harboured a villain, and the ex-hero had told him the story. In exchange, Shinsou finally told him why he probably wouldn't be attending UA for much longer.

Hitoshi Shinsou's home had been completely destroyed three weeks ago, while he'd been at school, taking the lives of his parents with its collapse. He'd been sent to live with his uncle, but the man had been so scared of his Quirk that he'd put a muzzle on him and locked him in the basement for two weeks. The poor kid would probably still be there if some of his classmates hadn't grown concerned and talked to their UA teachers about it. He'd been rescued and sent to the hospital for light malnutrition and psychological profiling.

Hitoshi didn't have any other family, and although his parents had left him some money, he wouldn't have access to it until he came of age. There was a chance he'd have to leave UA entirely and end up in an orphanage.

Whenever he looked at Shinsou, Aizawa saw himself. A General Studies kid who wanted to become a hero, who _could _become a great hero, if he were only given the chance. But more than that…

When he looked at Hitoshi Shinsou, he saw Hizashi Yamada: not the villain, but the fifteen-year-old who'd cried in front of a burning building.

All his life, this kid had been told his vocal Quirk was 'dangerous' and 'villainous'. It didn't matter if he had complete control over it, or if it was an incredible power: if you're told something enough times, you'd begin to believe it. The kid had lost his family, and was unwanted.

If his chance to do good was taken away, how twisted would Hitoshi become? Would he begin to blame himself for the deaths of his parents? Would he be sought out by gangs and criminals?

Maybe he'd become a villain too.

Hitoshi was in the same place as Hizashi, all those years ago.

But even though Shouta's hand was useless, he wouldn't let anything stop him from reaching out. This time, he would save the kid in front of the burning building. This time he would have no regrets.

-x-

August - 2019

Aizawa was gently petting Boots, back in Hizashi's apartment after spending three long months in hospital. The people at Hero HQ had gone through the entire apartment, and Shouta had told them about the secret laboratory behind the _Nighthawks_ painting. The equipment inside was completely gutted, but the rest of the apartment was predominantly untouched.

He found himself listening to Hizashi's kitchen speaker, although he had to remove _two certain songs_ from the playlist. Most of the music was English, and a great deal of it was old timey, but these were the songs Hizashi had loved, so he listened to them whenever he got the chance. He even found recordings of his old DJ Yamada shows, and he put them on whenever he needed to hear Hizashi's voice, even if it _was_ one he put on with his Quirk.

The place had been clean when he'd arrived. After all, his 'caretaker' had moved in one week before to set up their own room in one of the two guest bedrooms, and Nemuri had left Boots with them.

Apparently Aizawa's helper, Hitoshi Shinsou, was just as much a cat person as he was.

Whether he was a hero or not, Aizawa still had friends in high places, especially when one of those friends was Nezu – the principal of UA. The kid had nowhere else to go, and (as much as he hated it) Aizawa needed help at home during his rehabilitation process.

The state had been against it after Eraserhead's recent 'disgrace', but with glowing character recommendations, an (almost) spotless record and over a decade of unpaid underground hero work, he'd succeeded in earning a trial.

Hitoshi would stay with him for a year, with frequent visits from social workers and heroes to ensure Aizawa wasn't having any more 'relapses in judgement'. It kept the kid out of the orphanage system, and ensured he could still go to UA. Even though Aizawa'd had to quit his job at the Extroverted Hermit, money was never an issue – Hizashi had made sure of that.

One of the two guest bedrooms belonged to Shinsou, while Aizawa had spent the first few nights on the couch, until he worked up the courage to enter the room he and Hizashi had shared.

It still smelled of the blond. The wardrobe and drawers were full of his colourful clothes, and on the dressing table were their two cat plushies. Aizawa had to hide them in the top drawer, lest he lose his composure, but once they were out of sight he felt he could relax.

He laid on the bed and inhaled that scent and remembered their last night together.

_I love you too, Shouta. I love you so much I can barely breathe when I think about what tomorrow will bring. No matter what happens, I'll never find anyone as handsome, or as witty, or as funny as you._

Aizawa missed him every day.

He'd fallen asleep there, but a knock on the door eventually woke him. He pulled himself up and opened the door awkwardly with his left hand, finding Hitoshi on the other side: in his arms was a black cat.

"…Who's this?" Aizawa asked carefully as he stared at the feline. It had large yellow eyes, but only one front leg.

"This is Puddles," said Hitoshi without any explanation.

"…Okay." Aizawa blinked at her slowly and offered his scarred right hand. She cautiously looked at him, before nuzzling against his fingers. A gentle smile reached his face. "Okay."

-x-

He tried therapy. He _really_ _tried_, but Aizawa had never been good at talking about anything, let alone his feelings. The therapist had clearly been frustrated by his minimal responses, and after four sessions they decided it was time to try antidepressants and an exercise schedule. He had to swap to decaf coffee, which had been difficult at first, but Shinsou and Nemuri made sure he didn't surrender to his caffeine addiction.

With time, and adjustment, the medication helped.

-x-

December - 2019

Thirty-One Years Old

Nemuri was over today, while Hitoshi was making the three of them tea and (decaf) coffee. It was nearly Christmas, but neither resident had felt up to decorating the place, not that they even _had _decorations to begin with – Hizashi's apartment had nothing in the way of festivities.

Aizawa's left arm was finally out of its sling, although he still struggled to move the whole limb. Whatever the case, he was improving beyond expectations. His right hand could now pick up some items, so long as they were large and light.

"A letter a year?" Aizawa asked, his heart missing a beat.

She nodded. "You've both been deemed stable enough for it. Hizashi will get to write you one letter_ total_, but I've managed to arrange it so you can send him one letter a year at Christmas. It'll be reviewed, of course, and rejected if it involves any… _questionable_ information."

He looked at his hands. He couldn't even hold a pen with his right, and although he had plans to learn how to write with his left, he had yet to begin. "Can you write it for me? I can't…"

"It can't be in my handwriting," she said gently. "Hizashi's under a complete information curtain. I haven't been allowed to tell him anything about your progress. If it's in my handwriting, he might get paranoid that it isn't from you."

"I'll write it," said Shinsou as he came over and set the tray down. "This is for Hizashi Yamada, right? Your villain lover?"

"Yeah."

Nemuri's face turned red. "R-Really Shouta? You told him all the dirty details?" Steam puffed from her nose. "What if you're influencing the future heroes of today? What if he goes out to find his own villain boyfriend in hopes of experiencing such passion and-"

"Hitoshi doesn't have time for that," Aizawa said while waving his busted hand. "I've been teaching him how to use the same capture weapon I used, and Mei's built him a device to alter his vocal cords. He begins the Hero Course in April, and he still has a lot to learn."

She gasped. "Such a mean teacher."

"If he wants a girlfriend or boyfriend, he can get one _after _graduation, but for now he's too busy with training." He looked over at Hitoshi, and the kid was smiling. Aizawa liked his grin since it reminded him of his own – and Hizashi's. Mei had included a note with the vocal cord support device:

_Hey Aizawa! Zaza's doing great! Hope you like this tech. Zaza's still not allowed to build anything, but I talked over my diagrams with him and he helped with the calculations. He __**is **__the vocal Quirk expert, after all! Couldn't tell him who it was for, but you shoulda seen the look on his face when he suggested we include vocal mimicry! Hope you're doing well! Kisses!_

While he didn't appreciate the overabundance of exclamation marks, he did appreciate the sentiment. He trusted Mei's judgement, and the support device worked perfectly.

Hitoshi picked up the piece of paper and pen, and looked expectantly at Aizawa. "So, what do you want to tell him?"

What _did _he want to tell Hizashi? The blond was under an information curtain. He probably couldn't tell him much of anything.

_I love you. Every day I think about you. I don't blame you. Nemuri keeps me constantly updated about your progress. I know it was rocky at the start. I know it's hard. I've been trying to get them to give you a radio show of some sort, since I know it would help, because I know you're putting on a brave face for everyone, but I'm worried that you're scared, but I don't know for certain since I can't see you. I'm okay. I've been through hell, but I'm getting help, and I hope you're getting help too. Every day is brighter, but you're still my Sunshine, and I need you._

"Can you write in English?"

"Yeah."

"Tell him in English: 'Boots is fine. I've adopted. Her name is Puddles.' Got it?"

Shinsou nodded and wrote it down diligently without question. Nemuri stared at him. "Really, Shouta? _That's _what you want to tell him?"

_No. _"Yes." He wanted to tell him everything, but he didn't want to risk sending no letter at all if it were deemed 'questionable'. Hizashi needed _something_, and nine words would hopefully help. "That's all."

-x-

December - 2020 - Thirty-Two Years Old

Another Christmas was approaching, and the year had been far smoother than the previous one. It was official: legally, Shouta Aizawa was Hitoshi Shinsou's adopted father.

In celebration, they'd even bought a small plastic Christmas tree. They hadn't bothered to decorate it with anything more than a photo of Boots and Puddles, but it was enough for them. Aizawa's left arm was back in (mostly) working order, and he'd been learning to write with his left hand, although he was still hopeless at it. So hopeless, that Hitoshi would have to write his letter to Hizashi again.

The blond had yet to send his own letter, but he'd only been allowed one – of course he'd want to word it perfectly.

The apartment already looked different. There were photos on the walls now, most of Hitoshi during his school events. He'd reached the final rounds of the Sports Festival for the second year in a row, and although he still hadn't come first, Aizawa was proud of him. He wasn't the most open man with things like that, but Hitoshi seemed to know.

Some of Hitoshi's own friends had just left the apartment, but Aizawa was waiting up for Nemuri to visit after her late hero shift.

"Really? _Kaminari_?" Aizawa was a little oblivious, but he wasn't blind. "Of all the kids in your class, the one you _like _is _Kaminari_?" That damn kid with blond hair who'd offered to bring them some old lights for the tree next year: _that _was Hitoshi's_ crush_?

Shinsou rolled his shoulders and scratched the back of his head – a habit he'd copied from Aizawa. "Yeah."

The ex-hero _sighed. _They both had a weakness for blonds… At least Kaminari had a good heart (and wasn't a villain). "You gonna write my letter?"

"Sure. What do you want to tell your Dantès?" This kid was getting too smart for his own good.

"Really? Cementoss has you reading _Count of Monte Cristo_? The curriculum doesn't change… Thought it was supposed to be _modern _literature."

What did he want to tell Hizashi? According to Nemuri, the blond's year had been rather uneventful, but in a good way. The only real noteworthy event had been during his talks with his therapist: he'd talked about Shouta after nearly two years.

_I'm proud of you. I know you're trying so hard, but I'm worried you're lonely. You probably worry that I'm lonely, but I'm not. The worst is behind me. No, the worst is behind _**us**. _I've been learning how to cook, even with one hand, and I help him with his homework whenever he needs it. I know you said I'd make a disaster of a father, but I'm trying my best and I'm taking care of myself. Hitoshi is making sure of that, and I'm making sure of it for him. I'm technically a father, and that feels so strange, but it feels so right. I'm raising a future hero, Hizashi. I'm not a hero anymore, but most days I…I feel like…_

"In English: 'Boots is fine. I've adopted. His name is Hitoshi.'"

"Nine words again?" questioned Shinsou as he wrote it down. "You at least want to mention that I'm a person and not a cat?"

Aizawa grinned. "You're a person?"

The kid rolled his eyes but put the letter into the envelope and sealed in. "Maybe next year you'll get to write your own."

-x-

December - 2021 - Thirty-Three Years Old

The nightmares became a daily occurrence that year. He'd dream of red fire and red rain and would wake up sweating with an ache in his gut. He could see it clearly now: he and Hizashi had been in hell. While those days were full of happy memories of his love, they had been dark days.

He had some regrets. He and Hizashi should've sought help. He could've talked with Nemuri and Nezu about the rehabilitation program, could've convinced Hizashi to give himself up willingly. It might not have worked, but they could've _tried_ to find a different solution.

Even so, he never regretted Hizashi Yamada, the man with outrageously colourful clothes, and a gay-dad moustache and beautiful emerald eyes.

Aizawa had returned to work at the Extroverted Hermit. It'd been difficult at first, especially since he had to do mostly-everything left handed, but his boss and the other employees had shown complete faith in him, and he did his best. It was … nice to be back.

Kaminari had kept his promise and brought them old lights for their Christmas tree, and Nemuri had brought them each a Christmas stocking to hang on the wall. It wasn't much, but each year was more colourful than the last.

That night, Shinsou was out with friends, celebrating. He'd be graduating UA in only three months, so it would be the class's last Christmas together. Nemuri would be over later, but he wanted to write the letter now while he was alone.

What did he want to say?

_Do you dream about it too? That night with fire and rain. It haunts me. I could have done so much more for you. I thought I was being a hero, but I'd lost sight of what that word really meant. I feel more like a hero now, with my license revoked, than I ever did before. I wake from nightmares in our bed, and I wonder if you wake like that too. Nemuri told me they've given you a job at Hero HQ with Mei and Power Loader. I bet I've stood in that room you work in now, but I can't see you. We took no pictures. I don't even have a single picture of you, Hizashi. The only time I ever see you is in my nightmares and I hate that and I…_

He picked up the pen with his left hand and shakily wrote three English words:

'_I miss you.'_

-x-

June - 2022

It was midway through the year when it happened. He was at the coffeeshop, serving a customer, when he saw Nemuri enter with a young girl just behind her. Her expression told him it was serious, and he got another employee to cover for him while he moved to a back corner with Nemuri and the girl.

She was young, maybe nine years old, with long white hair, red eyes, and a horn emerging from the right side of her forehead. When he looked at her, she hid behind the woman. "Shouta," said Nemuri carefully, "I need your help."

"Let's hear it."

"This is Eri. We rescued her three years ago, but we've been struggling to find a permanent home for her. It's been…difficult. I know you've been busy with Hitoshi's graduation, but-"

"Temporary or permanent?"

Nemuri smiled gently. "Temporary, but potentially permanent…"

Aizawa bent down to the nine-year-old's height and offered her his left hand. "I'm Shouta," he said softly. "You're Eri?"

She glanced at him nervously and looked at Nemuri. "Don't let his looks fool you," said the woman with a wider grin. "Shouta here is a lot nicer than he looks. His Quirk is called Erasure: he can erase the Quirk of anyone he looks at."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "So he… could erase my Quirk if…?"

"You don't have to be scared," encouraged the R-Rated Hero. "Besides, he and his son are suckers for cats as well."

Eri's eyes sparkled. "You like cats?"

"I have two." He pulled out his phone to show her several photos of Boots and Puddles, earning a smug look from Nemuri. His family was growing.

-x-

October - 2022

Eri had moved into the second guest bedroom. She took an immediate shine to Shinsou, the cats and Kaminari (seriously, why did Hitoshi have his boyfriend around so often?), and she enjoyed helping out with cooking. Her Quirk was incredible. Rewind: she could rewind a person's body to a previous state.

As powerful as it was, it was difficult to practise since it only worked on humans, and there was a chance she could overdo it and erase a person from existence entirely. There was a chance she could fix his right hand, but although the chance was there, he never suggested it: by now he'd learned to live with it. By now he could hold a coffee cup, if a little shakily, and his left-handed-writing was improving.

Another amazing thing happened that year: Aizawa got to hear Hizashi's voice.

Nemuri came in with a radio one day in October. "We finally got approval!"

"Approval?" asked the ex-hero as he sat up on the couch.

Eri raced over to greet Midnight, bright and cheerful. "Nemuri! Look at my new gloves Daddy got me!"

The only time Hitoshi had called him his father (outside of a joke) had been at graduation. Aizawa had been proud of that moment. Even though he'd adopted the kid, he'd had his real parents for fifteen years. Shouta could never replace them, so he'd never been concerned with what Hitoshi called him.

Eri, on the other hand, had called him her Dad since the second week she'd moved in. He'd seen a pair of cat pyjamas on his way home from the coffeeshop, and he'd bought her a pair. She'd been so moved by the simple kindness she'd hugged him and dubbed him 'Dad'.

Shouta had decided it then and there: the paperwork was still being processed, but soon Eri would officially be his adopted daughter.

"Cute!" Nemuri cooed as she eyed the cat gloves. "Well, _I _have a surprise for your father." She set the radio on the coffee table and Aizawa eyed it suspiciously. "We got him a show."

Shouta stared at her in disbelief. "What?"

"It's prison radio, so only involves those at the prison, but Nezu managed to convince the higher ups to allow it, and with success they might be able to make it public. It'll be a source of hope for inmates undergoing the rehabilitation program and hopefully for everyday citizens – it'll help humanise him. Mei and I got you this radio. It can tune into his broadcast, although I must say, even though the show has a number, please don't call it, Sho, or else we'll have to cancel it. Hizashi doesn't know you'll be listening."

"When's he on?"

She checked her watch and tuned it quickly, "Right about… Now."

And there it was: Hizashi's voice.

_"Hey Dear Listeners, welcome to the show! The name is Present Mic, your soon to be favourite DJ, here to talk to you and bring some cheer into your lonely lives! Welcome to 'Put Your Hands Up Radio'!" _

Hizashi's voice. His beautiful, amazing, breathtaking voice. He hadn't heard that voice outside of recordings in four years and yet there it was, coming from the small box on his coffee table.

Eri looked at him curiously. "Daddy? Are you okay?"

-x-

December – 2022 - Thirty-Four Years Old

Christmas again. No, not just that: Eri's birthday was on the 21st and he'd bought her a tonne of new cat-themed clothes (while Nemuri had been responsible and bought her some that _weren't _cat-themed).

Hizashi's show was on, and Aizawa, Hitoshi, Kaminari, Eri and Nemuri were all sitting around listening to it. Shinsou was a brand-new underground hero, while Kaminari was still trying to find a suitable sidekick position. Eri had made it her mission to make the house as festive as possible and Aizawa had done all he could to live up to her expectations. The tree was properly decorated with lights, baubles and ornaments, although the photo of Boots and Puddles was still the star. Lines of tinsel decorated the walls, and the place had never felt more like home.

Another year meant another letter. He'd still heard nothing from his ex-lover. Aizawa had asked Nemuri about it, but she'd told him whenever she brought it up with Hizashi, he just told her it wasn't finished yet and changed the subject. Even so, he listened to his show religiously.

_Put Your Hands Up Radio _was now public, and many people called in for advice. Aizawa leaned back on the couch and lulled a little at the sound of Hizashi's voice – hearing him made him sleepy. He heard a faint beep, but didn't realise what it was until it was too late.

_"Hello Dear Listener, you're on the show! What advice can Present Mic give you today?"_

"Hi Present Mic," said a voice that came from both the room and the radio – the voice that could only belong to his adopted son only a few feet away, "I wanted some advice."

Aizawa's eyes snapped open and he stared. Hitoshi had _called_. Nemuri was grinning – _technically _Shouta wasn't the one calling him, so it wasn't _not _allowed, but…

It was a little torturous, knowing if he said something – _anything _– Hizashi could've heard him. Shouta stayed dead silent.

_"Well I can't promise it'll be __**good**__ advice, but I can try my darndest, Listener!"_

"Christmas is nearly here, and I was wondering what I should get for my Dad." There already _were_ presents under the tree from all of them – Aizawa was sure of it.

_"Hmm, that's a toughie… What does your dad like?"_

"Cats," Hitoshi said as he ran his hand over Boots' back. The feline purred happily.

Hizashi laughed and the sound was so nice. _"Well, your Dad and I have a lot in common, Listener. Hmm… What sort of guy is he?"_

"He likes to sleep a lot, but he's very nice to me and my sister." Eri giggled.

_"Well I guess we don't have so much in common after all! People say I never sleep!" _Hizashi still had trouble sleeping? Was it the nightmares, or was it his Quirk?_ "Well, how about you get your father a dressing gown with cats on? And some matching slippers! Or is that too cutesy for him?"_

Shinsou smiled wider. "No, I think he'd like that…"

_"Glad I could be of help! Got a song request? Maybe 'What's New Pussycat'?"_

"Can you play '_Let's Misbehave'_?"

Aizawa froze. There was a pause on the radio too. _"Ah, sorry Listener, but that's on my restricted list." _His voice was composed, but Shouta could tell he was shaken._ "Got anything else I can play for you?"_

"One moment…" Shinsou covered the speaker firmly and looked questioningly at Aizawa. "Song?"

He swallowed. Would Mic know? Would he suspect something? Was this a chance to tell him something? To comfort him? Aizawa glanced at Nemuri, but she nodded once with permission, and he finally said, "_Love to Keep Me Warm_."

Shinsou raised an eyebrow, but uncovered the speaker. "Know one called 'Love to Keep Me Warm'?"

_"Oh, an oldie but a goodie, Listener! This may surprise you but I love-" _There was a pause. _"I love old timey English music… Here's to you, Listener: 'I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm'. Let's go a little extra and listen to Dick Powell's version, 1937. Thanks for the request."_

Shinsou hung up the phone. Hizashi's voice disappeared and was replaced by happy, old timey music.

**_The snow is snowing, the wind is blowing, but I can weather the storm. What do I care how much it may storm? I've got my love to keep me warm._**

The first one to speak was Nemuri, "Now I'll pretend that never happened, okay? Just don't do it again, kiddo, or we might be in hot water."

**_I can't remember a worse December, just watch those icicles form. What do I care if icicles form? I've got my love to keep me warm._**

"Maybe Dad has some inspiration for his letter," happily suggested Eri as she picked up the paper and pen Nemuri had brought over. "Can I write it?"

**_Off with my overcoat, off with my gloves! I need no overcoat; I'm burning with love! _**

He was shaking. Aizawa didn't think he'd be able to hold a pen anyway. "Sure," he breathed out, voice lower than intended. What did he want to tell him?

**_My heart's on fire, the flame grows higher, so I will weather the storm._**

_I'm proud of-_

**_What do I care how much it may storm? I've got my love to keep me warm._**

…What did it matter what he wanted to tell him? He couldn't tell him any of it anyway. There was too much to say.

**_Off with my overcoat, off with my gloves. I need no overcoat; I'm burning with love!_**

"How's your English?"

She beamed excitedly, "Good!"

**_My heart's on fire, the flame grows higher, so I will weather the storm._**

It was tradition by now. "Tell him: 'Boots is fine. I've adopted.'" He let himself smile. "'Her name is Eri.'"

**_What do I care how much it may storm?_**

Her eyes sparkled as she wrote down those words as carefully and precisely as she could.

**_I've got my love to keep me warm!_**

The song slowly faded and Mic's voice reappeared. _"Well, that's the end of tonight's show. I hope, wherever you are Listeners, you've got some love to keep you warm through this cold December."_

Aizawa's heart skipped a beat. Hizashi's voice was so contained, so held together, that no one else would've noticed, but even after all this time, the ex-hero knew that voice too well. He could hear the restrained emotions just beyond the careful façade.

Hizashi knew.

_"Merry Christmas, Dearest Listeners."_

On Christmas morning, there was a present sitting outside his bedroom door. He picked it up and checked the name. It was Eri's handwriting, but it said 'To Shouta, Love Present Mic'.

Inside was a dressing gown, with cats printed across it, and a pair of matching slippers.

His kids were too smart for their own good and he loved them dearly.

-x-

November – 2023 - Thirty-Five Years Old

One more month and it would be another Christmas. Eri was having a sleepover with some of her school friends, Shinsou was out on patrol, and Aizawa had been snoozing with the cats on the couch until there was a knock at the door. He recognised the sound. "Come in."

The door opened and Nemuri stepped inside with her spare key and a bottle of wine. She was smiling and, by the look of it, she'd been crying. "We're having a drink," she told him as she shut the door and pulled two wine glasses from the back of the cupboard.

"I can't with my medication."

"Bullshit, Shouta, I know you're allowed one glass. We're having a drink."

He sighed and pulled himself from the couch, wrapping his dressing gown close as he sat at the kitchen table. It was covered with Eri's homework. The whole place really needed a clean – he'd been planning to do it that night but he was in a lazy mood (as he usually was). "How's Hizashi?"

"… Have a drink first." She handed him the glass and he eyed it suspiciously, but sipped it anyway. "I have news."

"Don't tell me he's done something stupid."

"Shouta…" She put her hand on his. "He's getting out tomorrow."

He almost dropped the glass, but the dull predicament of Eri's nearby homework made him hold on. "He's … _what?" _His chest was suddenly aching – his gut too. "Nemuri, he has a _life sentence."_

Her own drink was untouched. "_Had _a life sentence. Each year, we've been able to lower it due to good behaviour and his ongoing success in the program. Nezu wants to make him an example, proof that villains _can _re-enter society with a high rate of success… This year was his final year."

"And you didn't think to tell me?" He set the glass down carefully and stood up, unable to stay still at the prospect. What was he feeling?

Betrayal. Anger. Frustration. Hope. Joy. Excitement.

_Fear._

Oh, fuck. The Trojan Mic was loose.

He remembered a sharp pain, just above his bellybutton, a room of rain and fire, a pool of blood, and-

"I saw him today," she said softly, and his pacing stopped. "He asked for my permission."

"Your permission?"

She nodded. "He wanted permission to see you. He said that if I thought he'd only hurt you, if I thought you'd still be bad for each other, then he'd never see you again."

The whirlwind of emotion vanished into numbness. No, there still was fear, but this fear had a _different _origin. This was a fear he'd felt every day for five years. "What did you tell him?"

She gestured at the table and he forced himself to sit back down as she took his hands in hers. "Shouta, the Hizashi Yamada of five years ago wouldn't've asked. The reason he wanted to hurt you five years ago was because he loved you, but now it's… He… He still loves you and he refuses to hurt you again because of that."

He was trembling. "_Nemuri," _he said, his voice low, _"what did you tell him?"_

She exhaled. "I told him if he wanted to see you, he should see you … but if I sense anything unhealthy or suspicious, I'm throwing him back in jail and swallowing the key." She downed her glass of wine and poured herself another. "If Hizashi fucks with your head again, then Nezu and his rehabilitation program can go eat a dick."

Shouta _laughed. _It started out low, barely audible, but gradually snowballed into roaring mirth than roused both Boots and Puddles from their catnaps. The sound was full of complete and utter relief, and he buried his face in his hands, but was unable to stop.

He'd see Hizashi again.

He'd get to see that blond hair, that little moustache, those unholy mixtures of colours and those beautiful emerald eyes. Aizawa would get to hear his voice in person, would get to find out how healthy his love truly-

His love.

Five years and he was still madly in love with Hizashi Yamada, and Hizashi Yamada was still in love with him.

His laughter stopped.

He wouldn't let himself be blinded again.

If Hizashi Yamada was still a villain, gave him any reason to suspect the past five years had been an act, that he hadn't really changed at all, Shouta would throw him in prison faster than Nemuri could. He couldn't risk Hitoshi and Eri – he'd built this life for _them _and it wasn't_ perfect _but they were _happy_.

Eraserhead was dead, but Shouta Aizawa knew he'd forever be a hero.

Could he trust Hizashi Yamada, or was it too late for their option three?


	34. Jasmine Tea

Chapter Thirty-Four

Jasmine Tea

May – 2019 - Thirty-Years-Old

The cell was draughty, but definitely more than he deserved. It was _all_ more than he deserved: the simple meals, the simple clothes, the simple _everything._

He wasn't okay, and he knew it. Every night he had nightmares of burning buildings and Eraserhead's blood on his hands, and his insomnia had never been worse. What really stood out was a detail he hadn't noticed during the actual event: the smell. The smell of fire and pain and boiling blood.

He'd be going about his business of living, and suddenly he'd recall that smell and his entire face would distort in horror and he'd find himself rushing to the bathroom to wash his hands with soap. His hands always felt dirty, but the soap helped for a time, until he began to associate it with the smell. Nothing helped after that.

He saw a therapist at the prison, but no matter how much he wanted to, he _couldn't _talk about Eraserhead. Whenever he tried, all he saw was his bloody grin and all he heard was _that song_ and his careful composure would devolve into a sobbing fit.

Hizashi had never been this broken.

Despite the program, it was several months before they deemed him able to meet with Mei.

-x-

July – 2019 - Thirty-One Years of Age

It was otherworldly, to spend his 31st birthday in prison, although he told himself it was the first of many. Then again, maybe it didn't feel so different after all. Even if he'd been free, he wouldn't have done anything special, maybe just rented a movie or eaten something nice. Hell, usually he worked a gig on his birthday.

He wondered what Eraserhead would've done for him, and his stomach clenched.

Nemuri and everyone else were under a strict rule to not mention the ex-hero and, while Hizashi couldn't blame them, he hated it.

The door to his cell was usually open, but he preferred to avoid the other inmates. Besides, if he moved around too much, the guards would make him sit down somewhere to keep him from worsening his leg fracture, so he typically stayed there with a book. All this time and they'd never thought to get him new glasses or contacts, so he couldn't exactly _read_, but he didn't deserve to anyway, so it was alright.

Despite everything, he did have one surprise in store for his birthday: Mei Hatsume.

"Hey!" called a young voice from just beyond his cell. "You're him, right?"

Hizashi looked up to see the blurred girl from the photo Nemuri had shown him months ago, with pink dreadlocks and a wide grin. He didn't smile back. "Define 'him'."

She bounced inside his cell and was at his side so instantly he leaned back. "Mei Hatsume," she said excitedly as she outstretched her hand, "I'm your biggest fan! Eraserhead told me all about you!"

The name made his chest constrict, but he didn't allow anything to show on his face. He took her hand mechanically, coldly, and indifferently said, "Yamada. Can we reschedule this? I'm … not having the best day."

She was his ticket out, but… He hurt people when he was outside. If he were in here, he could just live out the rest of his days in quiet suffering without being forced to be 'useful'. Yeah, that didn't sound so bad. Nezu and Nemuri could find someone else to be their guinea pig. He didn't ever need to send a letter to Eraserhead – he was dead anyway.

There was no way he'd survived that wound. Nemuri was a liar.

"Okay, birthday boy," she said in a singsong voice as she backed away, "but I'll be in to see you tomorrow. Oh, I'll make it into a show and tell!"

"That's not necessary," he said as he glanced away, trying to return to his illegible book.

Eraserhead's sacrifice wouldn't be in vain: a dangerous criminal was locked up and that would be more than enough.

"I know, but it'll be fun! See you, Yamada!"

She disappeared and he curled up as he continued to 'read'.

-x-

She was back the next day with a broken phone.

"This is the phone you bugged!" she said eagerly as she hopped inside his cell, waving it in his face. "Eraserhead brought it to my teacher, Power Loader, but he wasn't able to find anything wrong with it, but he gave it to me to have a look over since I love-love-love software so much and he's more of a hardware kinda guy, and I ran it through several simulations and-"

He pushed the phone from his face. "I already know. You found my malware. That's not an easy feat, but you _did _put me in some hot water, so…"

"Well yeah," she snorted, "you were a _villain_! How'd you stop my reverse tracking anyway?"

He twitched a little, but couldn't resist giving an answer. "I drowned the connected laptop and threw it out an apartment window."

She stared at him in _awe. _"You _yeeted_ the connected laptop? That's brilliant! Hilarious, but _brilliant! _Defenestration for the win!_"_

He eyed her carefully. "You were in the same boat as Midnight. You _knew _what Eraserhead was doing, yet you didn't try to stop him…"

She hummed thoughtfully as she sat on the edge of his bed. "I didn't know _that _much, just knew that Eraserhead was going to fight my hero, and I wanted to help." She grinned, "Without my help, _he _would've been the one in hot water!"

"You shouldn't think of me as your hero."

"But your tech is amazeballs!" Her eyes sparkled. "It's so rare to be adept at both hardware _and _software, especially with complex support tech, but you're the best of the best! Your tech is my _goal!_ You're my god! Everything you make it amazing! I've studied _everything _that's _ever_ been confiscated with your insignia on!"

For a moment he remembered an image of a broken speaker – a speaker in _pieces. _"My tech is dangerous," he warned in a low voice, his stomach clenching. "It killed a kid."

She looked away and kicked her legs thoughtfully. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, less enthusiastic. "Yeah, I checked over that one too. The device was tuned for an adult voice, not a kid's… It was a rookie mistake, one someone with your knowledge couldn't be responsible for. I figured maybe the kid had stolen it, or borrowed it from one of their parents."

"I didn't know it was for a kid, but I'm still responsible for his death."

Mei looked at him and smiled. "Who's responsible? The man who builds a gun, the one who owns it, or the one who pulls the trigger?"

His stomach was in knots. "I'm not feeling well…"

"Okay, but I'll be back tomorrow with another show and tell!" She hopped up and raced out the door before he could tell her it wouldn't be necessary. He bit his lip and curled up on the bed, but didn't try to continue 'reading'.

-x-

"Ta-dah!" Mei called as she burst into his cell with another familiar device. "Man, it was a _pain _swiping this from the evidence locker!"

It was the tracker that would've alerted Kurogiri of his position, had he pressed the small button on it. It was definitely deactivated, and even if it _had_ still worked, he knew the bartender would've destroyed his own half by now.

"You could've called for help, right?"

"Better," he said carefully, "I could've teleported from the fight whenever I wanted."

She hummed and eyed it carefully. "Buuuuuut you didn't. Why?"

He frowned. Did this girl just like playing twenty-billion questions? Couldn't she tell he didn't care about her _or _the program? "I was winning."

"Buuuuut you're here, so that means you lost. It's so much cooler than the one I made for Eraserhead. Seriously, it directly sends coded co-ordinates? I had to make it so his would send me the co-ordinates to send to Midnight. We tried tracing the other half, but the protection on it was airtight!"

Right, of course Eraserhead had worn a tracker. "Yours was voice activated," he said gently. A few pieces began to line up. "You gave him a voice activated tracker for Midnight, and you rigged the water systems for all three buildings."

"Ain't nobody got time for that!" she said with a laugh. "I knew you'd pick that one! I even painted the entire room in a magnetic coating for his shoes to attach to! Took me _ages _but it was hella worth it! One day I'll be able to build a shoe that can attach to _any _surface without a coating." Her eyes shimmered as she talked.

He looked at her despite the eyestrain – _really _looked. "Why do you build tech?"

She grinned. "To help people, of course!"

His hand moved to the hearing-air behind his right ear. It was just a standard one, but he knew it was undoubtably an expensive model. True you could buy some for cheap, but they rarely worked well – they hadn't worked for him or…

To help his parents: _that _had been _his _reason. Before the fire, before Giran, before villainy…

"Leave me alone," he told her firmly. "It'll be better for everyone if you have nothing to do with me."

"You're the best of the best, and I want to learn everything you know," she said eagerly. "You're my hero, my goal, and I plan to surpass you in every way, but I don't want to be ancient by that time, so-"

"Leave. Me. _Alone." _He felt the edges of his Quirk rallying, but it wasn't enough to alert the alarm system. "You're _annoying__." _The word felt like cold poison on his tongue.

He stared at her face and for a moment he saw himself in those wide eyes.

_Annoying._

_Dangerous. Murderous. Unstoppable. Destructive. Broken. Villainous._

_Annoying. Annoying. Annoying._

He covered his mouth as his shoulders shook. Fuck, why had he used that word? Of every word he could've used, why _annoying?_

She turned away, and when she spoke again her voice was low, serious. "I'll come back tomorrow," Mei said, her face unseen. "I'll bring you another show and tell piece."

She was gone. Hizashi was a mess.

-x-

She didn't come back the next day, or the next. Hizashi hoped she would, yearned to apologise, but for that week he was alone. Thankfully, she _did _eventually return, bouncing into his cell like nothing had happened.

"I got it!" she called happily as she sat on the bed and held out something for him. He blinked in surprise and carefully took it, before his face brightened: his orange glasses, from the fight with Eraserhead. "I had to run them through _so many _programs and files and people to ensure I could bring them here. I want to know how you managed to put infrared on them!"

He blinked at her, and actually smiled a little. "Only infrared? These babies can detect ultra-violet light too." Hizashi opened a small compartment in the bridge of the glasses and showed her the internals. "See? There's a switch here that has three options. Really, the most difficult part was making it work with a pair of prescription lenses."

She tilted her head, "You need prescription glasses?"

He scratched the back of his head, "Yeah, I'm as blind as a-" Hizashi cringed and didn't let himself finish the thought. "Look, Hatsume, about last time. I'm-"

"Stop." He stopped. She looked at him carefully, and suddenly swiped back the glasses with a gasp. "I'll be back tomorrow!" Mei dashed out the room and he watched her blur disappear. Dammit.

-x-

She came back the next day with a man in a coat. "I got you an optometrist!" Mei declared eagerly as she vigorously jazz handed at the poor, uncomfortable man. "He's going to make you a new pair of glasses!"

Dammit, why'd he let that slip? He didn't deserve to be able to see clearly after what he'd done to Eraserhead. The only reason he kept his hearing-aids in was because, in a place like this, sometimes sound was crueller than silence, but-

Hizashi sat up and covered one eye at the man's request, as he showed him two different lenses and a letter chart. "Which one is better? A or B?"

"B," he lied. Fine, he'd get some more glasses, but if they were bad then- Hizashi hissed as Mei kicked his (non-fractured) leg. "Ow! What was that for?"

"You're going to teach me," she said with total confidence. "And to do that, you need to see. I don't care if you think I'm annoying, because I'm going to be as annoying as it takes! Aizawa wants you to get better – _everyone _does - and sitting here feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to help anything! You told Midnight you weren't a villain, so _help me do good_ and don't lie about what glasses you need because that's not very cash-money of you!"

He stared at her in complete disbelief.

There is was again, that flash where he saw himself in her place, and a sudden weight lifted off his chest.

Aizawa.

He remembered Shouta Aizawa. Not the bleeding, dying hero Eraserhead who haunted his nightmares, but the soft, gentle man who'd kissed him on the forehead at every opportunity, who'd pressed their faces together, who'd _loved him_.

_Your voice is … calming. I liked your laugh, and your eyes, and your smile, and maybe sometimes even your stupid jokes. I … liked you. I still like you, despite … everything._

_I'm not going to arrest you yet, Zashi. This happened because I wasn't strong enough to save the person I loved, but I'm not a one-trick-pony anymore: I'm a pro-hero. If I locked you away now, you'd still be a villain. I'm going to save you, even if that means we have to fight._

… What the _fuck _was he doing?

Why was he torturing himself, drowning himself in self-pity? So what if this was all a ploy to make him 'useful', to toss him back onto an assembly line? He'd promised he'd change, and he couldn't do any good if he didn't try!

He looked back at Mei and saw himself. At her age, he'd just started working for Giran, had started building tech for nefarious purposes, but their enthusiasm was identical.

Hizashi _loved_ tech. He _loved _building, and programming, and planning, and everything that came before, after and in-between.

Of course they'd want him to be useful: he was a _fucking genius_! He would be _wasted _if he just died in this cell without even trying, and Shouta had wanted better from him. Shouta…

Eraserhead _was_ dead, but Shouta Aizawa was still alive out there.

"A," he told the confused optometrist, and the man showed him two more lenses.

Fine. He was going to get himself a new pair of glasses, and he was going to be the best damn teacher he could be. Mei would never end up like him – she was going to be better. _No, _with his help, she was going to become the **_best_**, and no matter how much he hated him, Shouta was going to know Hizashi had changed.

-x-

November – 2019

Hizashi was out in the courtyard, reading an English book about virtual reality dated from the year 1991 – nothing really useful to gain, but he was determined to read _every _book available in the prison. He had the time, after all. His leg was finally out of its cast and he no longer needed to use crutches to walk around, and he enjoyed a bit of sunlight.

He was surprised, however, by the sight of Mei Hatsume rushing over with a bundle of blue scrolls, an electronic tablet and a pen behind her ear.

"Zaza!" she called, as if he hadn't recognised her. "I need your opinion!"

Zaza: she'd once called him Zashi, and he'd almost had a panic attack, so he never complained about the different nickname.

"Yo, Hatsumei," he called back. They were already such a common sight together that the other prisoners didn't take any interest. Apparently she wasn't really_ supposed_ to be running around the prison without an escort, but Mei didn't usually do what others wanted her to. Besides, if anyone tried to hurt her, Hizashi wouldn't hesitate to renounce his ex-villain ways to make them suffer, although when he'd mentioned it to Nemuri, she'd seemed perfectly happy to step in for him if the need ever arose.

Mei released the bundle of paper onto the table and dropped herself right beside him. "I need your opinion!"

Before he could ask, she unrolled the scrolls to reveal detailed blueprints and diagrams, while at the top was written 'Artificial Vocal Cords'. He understood instantly why she'd wanted his opinion – it _was _his area of expertise… "How old?"

"Fifteen-Sixteen, male."

Well, it was clear why she'd been given the green light to ask him – the higher ups knew he'd never hurt a kid. Hizashi looked over the diagram and paused. "These two bolts need to be shorter," he murmured, imagining the completed piece in his mind. "It'll echo too much if they're too long and disrupt the sound. One inch should be enough. You can make it easily adjustable if you remove these four screws and attach them to these points instead. What's the Quirk?"

"He can control the mind of anyone who answers back. We figured if we were able to alter his voice, people wouldn't be able to recognise him."

"Impressive." He tapped his finger thoughtfully and thought about his own vocal Quirk. Something was missing… "It's too simple."

His finger stopped and Mei grinned wickedly. "My thoughts exactly."

"Why just change the pitch of his voice? That'll help a little, but…" Hizashi took the electronic tablet from her and began to write calculations with his finger. "What if he could mimic other voices? Lull villains into a false sense of security, and get them to respond. If we make it just a bit larger around the neck area, we'd have plenty of room for the modulator box, and the memory card."

"Oh," she beamed eagerly and swiped the tablet back off him as she added her own points, "it'll need a _huge_ memory storage, at least one terabyte so it can contain multiple voices."

"Two terabytes, just to be safe." He wrenched the tablet back. "USB accessible, but it'll need Bluetooth transference for-"

"The microphones! We'll put two directional microphones on the sides to-"

"AND we can include an array of_ attachable_ microphones that he can set down to record voices, that'll automatically transfer to the modulator-"

"Via the Bluetooth!" She squealed eagerly. "Oh, and the reader will need to focus on accurate inflection!"

"Right!" he quickly scribbled something on the screen, his head reeling with excitement. "He'll need to ask questions in the voices to get them to respond, so inflection is key!" He shoved the tablet back into her hands and pulled the pen from behind her ear as he hurriedly amended parts of the physical diagram.

After what felt like moments, but in reality was over two hours, their planning was complete. Hizashi wiped the sweat from his brow and exhaled.

"Done," he said carefully, "all that's left is for you to build it." He was slightly bitter at the fact he wouldn't have a hand in putting the final piece together, but Hizashi was mostly content that he'd finally been able to do this much. He thought he might've been rusty after all this time, but apparently planning tech was like riding a bike: Hizashi only prayed _building _tech would come just as easily.

If working with Mei was always like this, then he was almost looking forward to being 'useful'. This was … _fun_.

She suddenly pulled him into a tight hug, and her laughter was all he could hear. "It's perfect! He's gonna love it, Zaza! I'm already super hyped!"

He was surprised by the sudden affection, but his face slowly lit up with a warm smile, and he ruffled her hair. "Go get building, champ."

-x-

December - 2019

One letter from Hizashi total, but a letter from Shouta a year. When Nemuri had suggested it, he'd leapt at the chance. It would've been better if Shouta were more of a writer, but Hizashi was just happy he finally had _something _from him as he sat in his cell.

He'd made some progress already. Despite the rocky start, he and Mei were now two peas in a pod. They could just talk for hours about tech and coding, especially when she showed him diagrams of her own inventions, and every day felt a little brighter than the last. She was his _friend_ and it felt so nice to have her in his life.

By now it was Christmas. He _always_ worked a gig on Christmas, a party for some rich person-of-the-year, so it was the first time he'd spent the day with friends. Mei had even bought him a present: a warmer blanket for the draughty nights and a notebook to plan tech in. He'd almost (_almost) _cried when he'd received them.

It was his first Christmas present since his parents had passed away.

Even Nemuri had dropped in with a present: a woollen beanie that was every mind-numbing colour of the rainbow. He loved it, but still didn't let himself cry. He'd forgiven her for her abrasive persistence back in the hospital room: it had been a hard time for all of them, and she'd been desperate for Shouta's near-death sacrifice to mean something.

Now he also had a letter from Shouta, but he was scared to see what it contained.

Would Aizawa tell him he hated him? That he blamed him? Of course he blamed him, and he had every right to hate him, but Hizashi was really trying and-

He opened the simple envelope carefully, his chest hammering away, but the paper was relatively blank. The writing itself caught him off-guard: it wasn't Shouta's handwriting. In fact, he didn't recognise whose it was, but it was in English.

_Boots is fine. I've adopted. Her name is Puddles._

That was all the letter said. Aizawa had adopted a cat by the name of Puddles, as he'd promised he would, and he was taking care of Boots.

Hizashi couldn't stop himself from smiling, even as tears rolled down his face. Shouta Aizawa was still _completely fucking hopeless_, and that revelation filled him with utter _relief_. He didn't doubt the words were his, even if the writing wasn't: only an idiot like him would write nine words and call it a year-worthy letter. Even the fact it'd been written in English supported this.

He pulled out his own work-in-progress, but he'd been unable to finish it. No matter how many times he wrote it and rewrote it, it never sounded good enough.

The year had gone well, despite the rocky start, and Nezu had declared it a success.

His lifetime sentence had been lowered to eighty-five years.

-x-

November – 2020 - Thirty-Two Years of Age

His case was so successful so far that they'd given him a few more students. Hizashi taught them a range of skills, like how to defend against malware, how to sign and how to speak English: maybe in another life he would've made a decent teacher.

Despite the growing company, he still missed Shouta. He missed him a lot.

"I loved him," he told his therapist one day, near the end of a session. "I don't know when I fell for him exactly, but it was definitely after I learned he was a hero. I _knew_ he was a hero, but I still let myself fall."

The woman straightened her back. A year-and-a-half of therapy, and this was the first time he'd talked about Shouta without falling to pieces. "How did you meet?"

He smiled gently. "It was a weird coincidence. There was a coffeeshop I'd wanted to visit for over a year, with a handsome barista, but … I never visited the same place twice, so I kept putting it off, to save it for something special. Then it was the day of my debut and I decided, fuck it, what's more special than becoming Present Mic? It was a _very_ spontaneous decision, actually; I had to run there since it was almost closing time, and he nearly turned me away, but I ended up getting my drink. Oh, Aizawa was the handsome barista, in case you didn't catch on. He made great coffee."

"Then what happened?"

"That night, during my debut, I lured a hero by calling for help. Eraserhead showed up and he…" He paused as he mulled it over. "I wouldn't say he _outsmarted _me, but he escaped my trap. I thought he'd died, but-… Well, we wouldn't be having this conversation if he had!" He laughed bitterly. How different would life be if Aizawa had died that first night?

"Did you know Eraserhead was the barista then?"

"No, but I… decided to go back to the coffeeshop the next day, after my failed debut."

The therapist hummed, interested, and scribbled something down. "You didn't visit places multiple times, yet you went back. Why?"

He'd asked himself that same question so many times. What was the real answer?

When he spoke next, his voice was low. "I was drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. It wasn't just because he was handsome, and witty, and funnier than he looked. It was like…" Hizashi fell silent.

"Do you think it was fate?"

He snorted. "Fuck fate, I don't believe in that stuff." The clock ticked quietly on the wall. The session should've ended by now, but this was a breakthrough, and the therapist didn't tell him to stop. "He looked like hell." He closed his eyes as he recalled the man behind the counter. "He was so tired, so _done _and _defeated_. He was completely miserable. Imagine it: a person more miserable than I was, who didn't even know it. They say opposites attract, and we _were_ opposites, but…"

His voice pattered off as he opened his eyes, yet still he imagined the miracle of a man, with a gauze pad beneath his right eye, and a mellifluous voice. His chest ached.

"Life was _killing _him. Life was killing this poor, lonely barista, just like it was killing me. We were drowning anyway_, _so I figured…" A sad smile curled his lips. "Maybe it would be nice to drown with someone by my side." A silence stretched between them, filled only with the scratching of her pen and the tick of the clock. Hizashi _laughed, _a purposeful sound to fill the void with fake cheer_. _"Or, maybe I was just really thirsty, and I don't mean for _coffee_, if you catch my drift."

"I think that's all we have time for this session," she said with a professional smile, sensing his emotional retreat. "You're making progress, Yamada, and I hope in the future we can talk more about this."

He nodded as he pulled himself from the red couch, "If I feel like it."

He felt … odd.

-x-

December - 2020

It was the second Christmas since he'd been imprisoned, and at last he'd received another letter from Aizawa. He opened it carefully, although his hands didn't tremble as they had the previous year. Again, the man had only written nine words for him, in the same non-Shouta handwriting as last time.

_Boots is fine. I've adopted. His name is Hitoshi._

Another cat? A weird name for one. At this rate he'd fill up the apartment in a few years. At least, he _hoped_ Aizawa was still living in the apartment. There was no way for him to know. The yearly letter was his only comfort from the outside world, and now he'd have to wait twelve months for another glimpse.

The year progressed. His eighty-five-year sentence was reduced to fifty.

-x-

February - 2021

"So Aizawa was your 'bridge'," she said carefully as she wrote something down. A few therapy sessions had gone by, but he was finally ready to talk more about his ex-lover. "Why did you use that word?"

"It felt right," he said with a casual shrug. "There was always something between us, like a chasm. I was a villain, and he was a hero. There was no way we could exist like that: either I gave in to him and became a good guy, or he joined me in villainy. We pulled and pushed at each other, each a bridge to a different life, but we were stubborn men. For the best – I don't think Aizawa could've ever become a villain. Not that I could've ever been a hero either."

"You know, not all bridges cross chasms - most cross water. When you talk about it, you keep returning to these same images of fire and water too. You've told me about the fire that claimed your parents when you were young, but what I want to know is why you keep returning to this motif. You didn't start that fire, Yamada, so why does it sound like you blame yourself?"

He was taken aback by the question.

"But I am to b-…" He stopped.

His visual alarms had worked. His parents had been able to escape, until…

Until…

"How are you to blame?" she pushed, sensing his hesitation. "The fire wasn't your fault."

"My Quirk," he said, his voice cracking without warning. "I made my parents deaf-"

"Yamada," she interrupted, "we're talking about the _fire_ right now. Who's to blame for the _fire_?"

_I came home and fell asleep with the heater on, but while I was napping it caught fire._

Was Shouta really the one to blame? No, maybe it was the manufacturer, the one who'd built it, but…

_Who's responsible? The man who builds a gun, the one who owns it, or the one who pulls the trigger?_

"No one," he breathed out, and the admission made his hands quake. "No one's to blame… It was… an accident." He stared at the ceiling.

"If your parents had been the ones caught under the rubble, and Aizawa's mother had died trying to help them, would you hate her for trying to save them?"

"…No…"

The therapist leaned forward in her chair. "Why do you hold yourself to different standards?" she asked carefully. "Why do you _hate _yourself for things beyond your control?"

"Because I'm annoying," he said, his voice unimaginably soft. "I deserve to be blamed, to be hated." _Hizashi Yamada was a broken man with a broken Quirk, who built machines to break others._ "I deserve every shitty thing that's ever happened to me, whether it's my fault or not. I've told myself that since before I can even remember, and the only one who's ever tried to convince me otherwise was a man I _stabbed_…" He shivered and wiped at his face, even though he wasn't crying. "He called me annoying once… And do you know what he did when he found out how much that word hurt?" She shook her head. "He _apologised_, and _kissed_ me, and _loved _me, and I never heard him say that word _again_…" His voice crackled with emotion. "And I _fucking_ **_stabbed _**_him._"

The therapist exhaled and quickly wrote something down. "You talked about Aizawa trying to save you, but you mentioned trying to save him as well, from living a bad life. Why did you do that?"

"Because his life was _shit!_ He didn't sleep and he didn't meet up with friends. There was only one friend in his world, who he rarely saw, and he had no family. He had a coffee addiction and a stupid routine. He'd isolated himself from everyone, just went through life living but not actually _living. _This _idiot _stayed in a Capsule Hotel and did nothing but work-work-work! I bet he worked on his birthdays! And Christmas! I hated seeing him like that. There really wasn't any proof he was even alive beyond each breath – no photos, no trophies, certainly nothing with any sentimental value. He was smart, but a complete disaster. He … needed help, but no one else could tell."

She leaned back in her seat, as if something had clicked. "Let's forget about the Capsule Hotel part… What you just said, doesn't that describe your _own _life before meeting Aizawa?" He went stiff. "In your own words, 'He needed help, but no one else could tell', yet you did. _You _tried to save him, Yamada. You were a villain, so why try to save a hero from the same lifestyle you had no qualms with living yourself?"

He was too raw. To hollowed out.

There was no protection from the onslaught.

His walls crumbled.

"_I wanted him to win_," he admitted, his voice sounding so foreign it didn't seem like his own. "I had to give the fight everything I had, but I wanted Sho to win so badly… If he'd just been a bit stronger, a bit healthier. If I'd had more time to help him, to make him reach his best, he could've beaten me… I wanted him to _stop me_, but…" His voice crackled. "He … _wasn't strong enough_."

"But you gave up. Even though he wasn't strong enough to defeat you, even though you could have killed him and escaped and become the villain you thought you wanted to be, you let him win."

He exhaled and when he spoke his voice was low and steady. "No one won. From the moment we decided our fight was inevitable, we'd already lost."

-x-

December – 2021 - Thirty-Three Years of Age

Hizashi's nightmares were growing worse. How far gone had he been, how lost, to believe killing the man he adored would help in any way? You're not supposed to hurt the people you love, and he'd definitely loved him.

Mei had graduated early, top of her class, and now worked for the costume department at Hero HQ, and Nezu decided it was time to add the second stage to his rehabilitation program: time for him to be 'useful'.

He'd been given a job, albeit a small one. Hizashi had his own area in the work room, under heavy surveillance, where he sat and worked on projects about three times a week. He'd been hesitant to take up the offer but he'd reluctantly agreed, and Mei had a surprise waiting for him on his first day.

While he was surveying the room, she came in with a large box and set it down on his desk, piquing his interest. "Ready for your work-warming present?" she asked with a toothy grin.

He raised an eyebrow, "Should I be?" She opened the box and his face lit up in awe. Inside was a vast assortment of parts and pieces, with some more complete components he could recognise easily. "Hearing-aids?"

"We're going to build you the perfect set together."

It was a faultless first task: he'd first discovered his love for building tech in his construction of hearing devices, so it was only fair that the joyous flame was rekindled like this. Of course, building this set of hearing-aids was worlds different to the time he'd made his first pair, especially with Mei's involvement and the high-quality components, yet it still somehow felt identical.

They didn't involve any weapons, or sonic attacks, but that meant they were lighter and easier on his ears. When it came time to put on the final casing, he decided to make the left one green and the right on pink: green for Hizashi and pink for Mei. They'd built them together, and that meant the world to him.

Soon, however, the first task was done, and it was time to be 'useful'.

Despite how against the idea he'd been several years ago, it was surprisingly … _nice_.

Working for Hero HQ was _nothing _like working for Giran. For a start, he never got a cent of the money he earnt. Supposedly he _was _getting paid, the money moved into an account he'd have access to once he served his time, but he didn't really care about that.

The heroes came in to talk directly with him and Mei and Power Loader. They would discuss what they wanted, and their mixture of sheepishness and enthusiasm was always a welcomed sight. In the past, Giran had told him what he wanted, or had offered a vague description of the customer's Quirk, and Hizashi had set to work. However, these heroes all had some idea about what they wanted, and making their idea come to life offered a profound feeling.

Whenever he was finished, Hizashi got to see the fruit of his labour as they tried out his tech for the first time. Nothing was more satisfying than the look of delight on their faces: at least, nothing until they let him watch news reports of the heroes, and he got to see his tech _saving lives._

He'd been emotional after the first time seeing that, and he'd thrown himself into being as 'useful' as he could possibly be.

Mei typically joined him. In three years, he'd really seen her grow up. He'd never loved someone like this before. It was worlds apart from the obsessive, controlling wildfire he'd felt for Aizawa. She was his best friend, and the love he felt for her was soft and warm and welcoming. It made him regret never having his own child. Maybe he and Shouta would've made decent parents in a different life.

His next letter came, and the number of words had shortened to a third. Even so, Hizashi couldn't keep himself from crying after he read it. The writing was different, sloppy, but he recognised it as Shouta's.

_I miss you._

Shouta really was alive out there. He was alive, and able to write, and he _missed him._

Hizashi pulled out his own work in progress and wrote:

_Aizawa, don't miss me. Please don't. Not after everything I did to you. Move on from me. Find someone who won't hurt you again. I miss you. Fuck, I miss you so much Sho. I miss you and I want you and I love you. You saved me, which is why I love you, and everything about you, but I only hurt you and you shouldn't miss me after-_

His pen paused as tears dirtied his words, smudging the ink. Hizashi shook his head and crossed out everything he'd just written. The letter had to be perfect.

His fifty-year sentence was reduced to twenty-five.

-x-

December – 2022 - Thirty-Four Years of Age

Hizashi now worked most days for Hero HQ, and they'd promised him his job even after he left. The most amazing part of that year, however, had been the moment he was given his own radio show. He'd called it _'Put Your Hands Up Radio' _as a bad joke. The villains enjoyed it plenty, even though the songs he played were regulated.

It had started in the prison, but according to Nezu it now played on a public station, and the sudden increase in diverse callers confirmed it. It was a lot of trust to put in him, but Hizashi never abused it, and he always put on the best show he could.

It was _amazing _to be back doing what he loved. It was the happiest he'd been in a long time.

One day, however, he had an odd phone call, right near Christmas.

"Hello _Dear Listener, _you're on the show. What advice can Present Mic give you today?" Yes, he'd regained the title he'd once sacrificed, but it was no longer the name of a villain – it was the name of a radio host and nothing more.

The voice on the other line was a young man he'd never heard from before. _"Hi Present Mic, I wanted some advice."_

"Well I can't promise it'll be **_good_** advice, but I can try my darndest, _Listener!"_

_"Christmas is nearly here, and I was wondering what I should get for my Dad."_

"Hmm, that's a toughie…" He tapped his finger as he mulled it over. "What does your dad like?"

_"Cats." _He thought he heard the sound of purring in the background.

Hizashi laughed. Man, he missed Boots. "Well, your dad and I have a lot in common, _Listener. _Hmm… What sort of guy is he?"

_"He likes to sleep a lot, but he's very nice to me and my sister."_

He snickered – sounded like a great dad. "Well I guess we don't have so much in common after all! People say I never sleep here! Well, how about you get your father a dressing gown with cats on? And some matching slippers! Or is that too cutesy for him?" He wondered if Mei was listening to the broadcast – he'd _love _a cat dressing gown with matching slippers for Christmas too!

_"No, I think he'd like that…"_

"I'm glad I could be of help! Got a song request? Maybe '_What's New Pussycat'?_" He laughed, but was already checking over the Top 100 Hits, wondering which the young man would want.

_"Can you play 'Let's Misbehave'?"_

Hizashi was caught off-guard by the request. Huh? He swallowed, but stayed composed as he said, "Ah, sorry _Listener, _but that's on my restricted list. Got anything else I can play for you?"

_"One moment…"_ The phone was covered, and he heard the muffled sound of voices, before the listener finally said, _"Know one called 'Love to Keep Me Warm'?"_

"Oh, an oldie but a goodie, Listener! This may surprise you but I love-" He paused and his heart raced. Wait… "I love old timey English music." Was this a message? "Here's to you, Listener: _'I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm'_. Let's go a little extra and listen to Dick Powell's version, 1937. Thanks for the request."

The voice disappeared as he forced himself to terminate the call so he could play the song, and he sat back in his chair as he listened to the music.

**The snow is snowing, the wind is blowing, but I can weather the storm. What do I care how much it may storm? I've got my love to keep me warm. I can't remember a worse December, just watch those icicles form. What do I care if icicles form? I've got my love to keep me warm.**

Was this a message from Aizawa? Who'd been the one on the phone? Had he got someone to call him with a fake father-son Christmas story to send him this message secretly? Did Nemuri know? No, did _Aizawa _know about Hizashi's progress? He was kept in the dark about the ex-hero, and had thought maybe it was the same for Shouta, but what if it wasn't? What if Nemuri told Aizawa _everything_?

**Off with my overcoat, off with my gloves! I need no overcoat; I'm burning with love! My heart's on fire, the flame grows higher, so I will weather the storm. What do I care how much it may storm? I've got my love to keep me warm.**

He knew Shouta missed him, but did he still _love _him, even after every shitty, unforgivable thing Hizashi had done, or was the song telling him he'd found a new love? Was there any significance to him only calling it 'Love to Keep Me Warm'? Had he left out 'I've Got My' on purpose, to symbolise that he _didn't _have his love? No, Aizawa didn't usually think _that _deeply…

**Off with my overcoat, off with my gloves. I need no overcoat; I'm burning with love! My heart's on fire, the flame grows higher, so I will weather the storm.**

Maybe it was all just some big coincidence. Maybe the kid had recognised him as DJ Yamada and had wanted _Let's Misbehave_ because it'd been his final song. That was probably it…

**What do I care how much it may storm?**

Still, maybe he could have a _little_ hope.

**I've got my love to keep me warm!**

The song slowly faded and Mic composed himself, but his emotions were reeling, "Well, that's the end of tonight's show. I hope, wherever you are Listeners, you've got some love to keep you warm through this cold December!"

If Aizawa _was _listening, there was only one thing he wanted to tell him:

"Merry Christmas, _Dearest Listeners_."

He ended the show and slumped back in his seat, taking a moment to stare at the ceiling. "_Zashi," _he whispered, using his Quirk to change his voice into Shouta Aizawa's. The sound of it sent joyous shivers up his spine. "_Merry Christmas, baby…" _A silly smile lit up his lips and he rubbed at his eyes before he could get too emotional. He missed Shouta's voice – his _real _voice.

He almost had a heart attack when he walked out the booth and found Nezu waiting for him outside. His benefactor wasn't exactly human – he was a cross between several animals and was short enough to reach just above Hizashi's kneecaps, but he was _smart. _Even smarter than Hizashi and that was _not _an easy feat.

"A good show today, Yamada!"

He smiled, but was internally panicking. Had Nezu known about the phone call? "Thanks. I'm really grateful you let me do it at all."

"I wanted to talk to you about the program."

"Well," Hizashi said matter-of-factly, "I just take a few calls, while the rest is a mixture of songs from-"

Nezu stopped him with a laugh. "The _rehabilitation _program. Sorry for the mix-up. I want to know what you've thought of it over these years, since you _are _the central aspect."

"Oh," he said gently. "Well, I really appreciate the opportunity you gave me. I've never felt so … _useful." _He'd hated that word only a few years ago, but now it filled him with warmth._ "_I love making tech, and working with the students, and hosting the show. You've given me so much, even when I didn't really deserve any of it…"

"Do you feel you've changed?"

Hizashi glanced at a wall as he organised his thoughts. "Yes … and no. I don't really believe people can just_ become_ better, unless there's already some good inside them, waiting to be found…" His smile returned, small and sombre. "I think… I _must've_ had some good in me all along, even when I couldn't see it. Shouta saw it, and your program helped me find it. It's… nice, to do good, to be treated like a person and not as an… annoyance."

Shouta had been right: he could never be a hero … but that didn't mean he had to be a villain.

"You've come a long way in these four short years, Yamada. You're the first of many, and your success in the program will set the standard. We'd like to make you into a role model, but we'll have a lot riding on your continued success."

"Well," he said, "you know I've never been troubled by the spotlight. What did you have in mind?"

"One year," happily chirped his boss. "We'd like to shorten your sentence to one more year and prove villains can re-enter society with a high rate of success thanks to our program."

Hizashi froze. "But I came in with a life-sentence! I'm grateful that's it's been dropped to twenty-five, but to release me after only five years is-"

"A risk," Nezu admitted. "It is, which is why I came to talk to you about it. It would be more akin to parole than complete freedom, of course. You won't be allowed to leave the country, and you'll have a tracker implanted to ensure this, but you'd be a civilian again. You'll have your job in Hero HQ costume tech, alongside Ms. Hatsume, and you'll be allowed to continue the radio show, to help humanise our program. You'll still have access to therapy too, and any other health services you may require. We want your transition to be as smooth and as successful as possible."

It was a lot to take in. For the things he'd done to Shouta Aizawa, he deserved a life sentence, to rot away-

No: he _wasn't _a villain anymore. He _had _changed! If he proved the rehabilitation program was a success, he would be helping everyone who'd ever helped him.

_This_ was how he'd _repent_.

Hizashi inhaled until his lungs ached and shakily exhaled. "One more year, Nezu. Let's make it a good one."

-x-

Christmas Day. Four years now. Four years since he'd last seen Shouta. As heart-warming/wrenching as the last letter was, this Christmas it was back to nine words.

_Boots is fine. I've adopted. Her name is Eri._

Hizashi had a lot to decide over this final year. He pulled out his own letter to Aizawa: it had taken him four years to write and was now four pages long. Even so, it wasn't enough.

It would _never _be enough.

Hizashi tore it to shreds.

-x-

November – 2023 - Thirty-Five Years of Age

Tomorrow was his first day of freedom, but today he'd arranged a meeting with Nemuri to discuss his departure. They sat in the visitor area, drinking jasmine tea, and although she tried to spark up a casual conversation, Hizashi had things he wanted to say.

"If you don't want me to see him," quietly said Hizashi after a few minutes of silence, "I'll do everything in my power to never see him again." He'd stewed over this decision for a year. Nemuri knew Shouta better than anyone – if she believed he shouldn't see him again, then he would accept that and never see him again.

She looked Hizashi Yamada up and down, and a smile came to her lips. "You've changed." It sounded like a compliment. "The man I met five years ago would've never asked."

"I can't hurt him again. If you think he'll be better off if I never see him, then I'll understand."

"Do you still love him?"

"…I don't know. I'm still in love with the memory of him, but…" He stopped and exhaled shakily. Who was he trying to fool? "Yes, Nemuri. I still love him. I love him and I miss him, and it's because I love and miss him that I _can't hurt him again_."

"It's been five years, Hizashi. What if he's moved onto someone else? What if he's a completely different person? How do you know he still wants anything to do with you after what you did to him?"

His stomach swirled with butterflies. "I don't know the answer to _any_ of those questions," he admitted sombrely. The words of the third letter swam through his mind: _I miss you. _Some words from a song joined in: _I've got my love to keep me warm. _"That's why I wanted to talk to you. You know him better than I do – _far _better. I just … I need him to be _happy_." Hizashi paused, shook his head, and bitterly grinned. "No, I _want _him to be happy, even if that means I never see him again … but a small part of me hopes he might be happier … _with me_."

"…He's never moved on." His heart skipped a beat. "Every time I see him, the first thing he asks is how you're doing, if you're healthy, if _you're_ happy. It makes me a little jealous, really, although I have no clue how either of you have managed through such a sexual-dry-spell!"

He inhaled deeply. Aizawa asked about him? _I miss you. _How difficult it had been for Aizawa to admit to those three small words. "Nemuri, do you _want _me to see him?"

She licked her lips and sipped her tea and asked him the most obvious question, "Do you_ need_ to see him?"

"No," he choked out. "Nemuri, I don't 'need' anything from him. I can survive without Shouta, and by now I'm sure he can survive without me. If I did still need him, I wouldn't be asking your permission. If I thought we still _needed _each other, then I'd already have my answer and would never see him again. There's a difference between needing and wanting…"

She smiled. "Okay, do you _want _to see him?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation. "Badly."

"Then see him… But, just so you know, if I sense _anything _fishy or unhealthy about either of you – if I suspect for even a moment that you're still bad for each other – I won't hesitate to step in and force you apart this time."

He nearly cried again at the sheer relief her words brought him. "Thank you… That… That means a lot to me…"

She smiled tenderly. "You _want_ a place to stay, or are you planning to run into his arms immediately?"

"I've been given access to my new bank account, so I'll have enough for a hotel. I already have one in mind. I just hope Aizawa hasn't been too lonely, although I suppose he's got his army of cats to keep him company."

She looked at him oddly, but then a wicked grin crossed her face. "You're in for a few surprises…"

-x-

Today was the day. When he'd been arrested, everything on him had been stored, although most had been put into evidence. They didn't return his villain costume, or any of his tech. Even his old hearing-aids weren't returned, although he didn't mind too much considering his replacements.

All that was returned was his wallet.

The outside world felt so foreign. The only time he'd left in the last five years had been on the prison bus between there and Hero HQ. However, Mei was waiting for him on the outside. She'd grown a lot in five years, from the excited little sixteen-year-old into a remarkable woman.

Even though he saw her so often, he'd never felt prouder in his life.

"You're finally out, old man," she said with a grin.

"I know – that life sentence really flew by." He laughed and joined her side. "Seriously though, who're you calling an old man? I'm thirty-five!"

"Old!"

"Just you wait, I'm going to call _you _old when you're thirty-five."

"Yeah, but by then you'll be ancient, so…"

He rolled his eyes. "You know the address?"

"Course! You up to date with everything I sent you?"

Hizashi nodded. "I read every single file. I understood the politics, but did I _really _need to be updated with the latest meme-culture as well?"

"Wow, you _are _old!"

They both laughed as they made their way to her car and towards Hizashi's uncertain future. Despite his freedom, and Nemuri's permission, it took an entire month for him to work up the courage to see Shouta Aizawa after everything that'd happened.


	35. His Favourite

Chapter Thirty-Five

His Favourite

Aizawa braced himself every morning, and he hated himself for it. His life was a paradox. He lived in constant fear of seeing Hizashi and in constant fear of never seeing him again.

Still, an entire month had passed since Nemuri told him he was loose, and Aizawa had heard _nothing_. He was going crazy. Should he try to find Hizashi? Maybe Nemuri had been wrong.

Maybe Hizashi was_ over_ him. Maybe Hizashi never wanted to see him again.

Maybe that's why he'd never sent a letter.

No…

_Maybe_.

With time, Aizawa stopped bracing himself. He almost (almost) forgot Hizashi was free, and just continued on with his life as it had been before.

Christmas was approaching again. In fact, it was the day before Christmas eve, a Saturday, and the place was packed. Eri sat in the usual booth, completing her homework for school, while he was hard at work. Even though she was now eleven, Shouta didn't like leaving her home alone, and she enjoyed sitting in the coffeeshop while he worked – she _really _liked the chocolate chip muffins.

He was so busy making coffee, he didn't hear the bell jingle, to alert them of another customer. "Ah, Aizawa," one of his employees – the woman with the Fire Quirk – said as she tapped him on the shoulder, "I think _you_ should take this one…"

Shouta frowned in confusion, but turned and froze.

There was the sound of smashing – he'd dropped the empty cup he'd been holding.

Blond hair wrangled into a messy bun, glasses framed so thickly they could've inspired crime scenes, and a familiar yellow jumper with a black cat on the front.

On his left cheek was an old scar that curved slightly downwards.

Hizashi was _staring _at him with those great green eyes, his thick glasses serving to frame rather than obscure, but even upon eye contact, he didn't look away.

It _was _Hizashi Yamada, and he looked _good._

His heart swelled, but the sight was paired with a sharp ache, just above his navel. Aizawa's right hand mechanically pressed against the spot, and the blond's eyes followed the movement.

Hizashi paled, and stepped back towards the door.

Aizawa's heart lurched as one fear finally won out over the other. He flew forward to the register before the blond could run, his boot crushing the broken china without concern as he quickly said, "Can I help you?" His voice sounded too forced, too strained, too loud. Customers were already staring at him for breaking the coffee cup, but Aizawa's attention was focused solely on the man he hadn't seen in far too long.

Hizashi hesitated, but he didn't turn away. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed deeply and took several steps forward.

The man was scared. They were _both _scared and there was something incredibly _relieving _about that fact.

"…Hey," Hizashi said unevenly as he pulled his wallet out and offered the barista a familiar card, his hand shaking from either nerves or restraint or a combination of both. "Do I still … get a free drink for my tenth visit?" After five years, the loyalty card was somewhat faded, but it must've been stored well as it was still perfectly legible.

Oh damn, it was his voice in person. It was his amazing, incredible, natural voice, and he had to stop himself from reeling at the mere sound of it.

Shouta took the card, ensuring he made no sudden movements – it was like he was acting around a scared cat. Nine stamps, and one empty space. His eyes glanced to Eri's booth, but she was so focused on her homework she hadn't noticed the disturbance.

Aizawa didn't even know what to say. "This promotion expired years ago," he said automatically, although his voice sounded so rough compared to Hizashi's.

The blond _deflated _at those words. "_Oh_," he breathed out, looking so unexpectedly _defeated, _"I just…"

Oh fuck, this wasn't about a free drink. This was Hizashi's stupid, cryptic, overthought way of asking him if-

"But I'll make an exception," Aizawa forced out before Hizashi considered running, "for being such a loyal customer." Redness crept across the blond's cheeks and his emerald eyes stared into his, and he _smiled. _Aizawa felt his own cheeks grow warm. He hadn't seen that smile in too damn long. He quickly said, "One free medium drink. What would you like?"

Hizashi leaned against the counter, like some sort of celebrity, so close yet so far. "Whatever you recommend, barista, dine-…" He paused and swallowed. "Take away."

He nodded sluggishly and pulled out an order form, pen held in his left hand. "What's the name?"

His grin widened. "Hizashi, baby."

Aizawa nodded again and wrote something down on both the form and loyalty card, before he turned to make the order, although he continuously glanced back at Hizashi, afraid he'd suddenly disappear. Another worker swept up the broken cup without complaint while the blond moved to the pickup area and watched him work, that goofy grin never leaving his face. Aizawa's heart was pounding and he made the drink without even thinking about it.

Why had he been so scared? This was _Hizashi Yamada_.

Just seeing him made his chest thrum with happiness, and that smile… Oh that smile…

"You been here long?" Hizashi asked, his words sounding unnatural. They were of a simpler time. "You, not the store."

Aizawa swallowed. "I had to stop working for a few years," he admitted, "but I'm back now and that's what matters."

"You move a lot?"

"No… I have a nice apartment, so there's no reason to move…"

"And am I the handsomest customer you've ever had?"

Aizawa turned away as his shoulders trembled. Oh god, it had been so hard these past few years – harder than he'd even realised. "You have _beautiful_ eyes." His voice was just above a whisper, but even if Hizashi couldn't hear him, he knew his sentiment_. _The barista turned back around with his completed order and carefully set it on the pickup station. He looked directly into those beautiful eyes as he carefully said, "Hiwasha Baby? Is there a Hiwasha Baby here?"

Hizashi _laughed. _It was a sweet laugh, like a shy teenager, and it made Aizawa feel complete. Five years and Hizashi was laughing in front of him again, close enough to touch, with nothing but a bar between them. "You're really a genuine barista…"

No, there was still more than just a bar between them.

"You look good," Shouta said, his voice quiet, as if his words broke some illusion.

Hizashi only smiled wider. "You look good too. I… Here, Aizawa. I wrote you a letter, but… I couldn't ever bring myself to send it." He held out an envelope.

Aizawa: Hizashi had called him _Aizawa_, and that spoke volumes. "Shouta," he corrected and, although the blond looked surprised, he nodded.

"Shouta." Hizashi said his name, and just the sound of it made his head feel lighter.

"Did you get my own letters?"

"Yeah, they were very … concise. Don't you think four cats is a little too many though? Soon you'll be a crazy cat dad."

Aizawa paused and scratched the back of his head. Okay, maybe he _should've _told Hizashi about Hitoshi and Eri, but… There would be time. The barista took the tattered envelope. "I'll read it when I'm off shift. Here…" He held out the finished loyalty card and when Hizashi looked at it his breath audibly hitched. Instead of a stamp, a string of numbers filled the final square. "I hope you're not _really_ allergic to phone numbers of cute baristas…"

Hizashi was speechless, and when he spoke again his voice was small. "Good thing you're more handsome than cute. More handsome, and witty, and funnier than you look." He automatically sipped the coffee and _froze._

Aizawa scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "Sorry it's nothing special - I don't think I have the mental capacity to make anything more extravagant right now…"

Yes, he'd resorted to the most common drink on the menu: a plain and simple cappuccino.

He was taken aback when tears rolled down Hizashi's cheeks. "…It's my favourite."

Aizawa stared at him. A cappuccino was…? After all this time, he'd finally…

He felt conflicted, but seeing those tears sweep down Hizashi's cheeks, and hearing that a boring cappuccino was his favourite drink _destroyed_ what little restraint he had left. "Tonight."

Hizashi looked surprised. "Huh?"

Shouta spun around, grabbed three small cups and quickly scribbled on each. He put the first one down and Hizashi covered his mouth in shock.

_Busy tonight?_

He was frozen in place, his eyes darting back and forth between Aizawa and the cup, until he frantically shook his head.

Shouta put forward the second cup: _Date?_

More tears ran down Hizashi's face and his heart lurched at the sight, but he couldn't comfort him as the blond choked out his line. "With you?"

_Yes._

Hizashi didn't even hesitate to grab the third cup and shove it back into Aizawa's hand, his warm fingers wrapping tightly around his. They were touching. After five years, they were _touching._ "Yes, a date._ Please_. I have so much I want to tell you, that I want to know. Yes, yes, a thousand times **_yes_**_._"

They were interrupted by applauding. Aizawa came to his senses and glanced around – _everyone _in the coffee shop had witnessed his date proposal, and they were _clapping. _Of course they were, they didn't know the entire sick and twisted backstory behind-

He heard extra enthusiastic cheering from his right, and when he turned, he saw his daughter with the biggest grin on her face as she eagerly watched, but wisely kept her distance. Despite it all, Hizashi's hands were still holding his and they were so warm that Aizawa didn't mind one bit.

"Tonight," Aizawa told him in a quiet voice. "I'll meet you outside the shop at 7pm tonight, okay?"

Hizashi nodded like a bobblehead. Aizawa wanted to lean over the bar and _kiss_ him, but he knew he couldn't. Five years was a long time, especially after the nightmare that had been their last time, and he needed to be sure Hizashi really _had_ changed.

"I'll see you tonight, Sho." His hands finally left his and it took everything he had not to take them again as Hizashi backed away with his favourite drink and a goofy grin.

Their love was still a wildfire, yet somehow it felt … different this time.

He watched, feeling lightheaded, as Hizashi left the store with his coffee, and Aizawa realised he was trembling. "I'm going on break," he told his co-workers, and they happily allowed it as the busy shift finally settled.

He picked up the tattered envelope and went to the booth where Eri sat amongst a pile of homework. She was grinning like a madwoman, "That's the DJ, right?" She looked starstruck.

The DJ. Not 'The Villain': _the DJ._

Aizawa nodded absentmindedly as he carefully opened the envelope – it was so tattered. Clearly it'd been sealed, opened, and resealed frequently. "Remember what I said. Be careful around him, for now. I'm meeting up with him tonight, so I'll judge whether he's safe or not."

She nodded, but didn't stop grinning. "What should I call him?"

"Hm?"

"If you're Dad, should I call him Ma, or would he prefer Papa?"

He rolled his eyes, "Finish your homework." She giggled and he pulled out Hizashi's letter. It had taken the blond five years to write it, but the page was relatively blank, with only five words written in neat English:

_'You are my Sunshine too.'_

-x-

Hizashi was first this time, and he'd worn something colourful to commemorate the event. It had taken him a long time to work up enough courage to enter the coffeeshop, and when Aizawa had seen him he'd almost lost his spine. He'd been so scared that the man would yell, would blame him for everything he'd done, but now he felt stupid for thinking that.

Five years had passed, but even though they were no longer Eraserhead and the Trojan Mic, they were still Shouta and Hizashi.

The ex-hero appeared just before 7pm, and the blond was startled when he saw him – the man had _shaved, _and wore an ironed dress-shirt.

"You," slowly said Hizashi, trying to carefully word what he wanted to say, "_don't _look like a hobo."

"Thanks?" The man scratched the back of his head. Damn, he'd even _brushed his hair. _"I had a bit of help…"

Aizawa looked healthy. There was a warmness to his features that he couldn't remember from before, a constant softness in his eyes that he'd once only ever seen on rare occasions.

The scar beneath his right eye was still prominent, as it would forever be, but Hizashi had been surprised by the countless scars on his right hand. He'd known the injury had been bad, but hadn't imagined it would look _that_ _bad. _What other wounds were just beneath that crisp piece of clothing, scars given to him by-

No. He was _Hizashi. _The fact Shouta had been willing to meet up with him after all this time only cemented that: Aizawa would've never been willing to face the Trojan Mic again.

While he was overthinking, Aizawa took his hand. He was surprised by the sudden warmth, but didn't instinctively retreat. His heart thumped noisily against his ribcage, and he was worried his date would hear it.

"Was there someplace you wanted to go?" asked the ex-hero, his voice still mellifluous. It was a little different to his Quirk stored voice, but that was no surprise. Maybe he'd be able to convince him to let him re-copy his voice, once-

Hizashi was taking _way _too long to answer.

He quickly nodded and took his whole left arm instead, but was careful with the limb – he didn't know how much it'd been healed. "Yeah… This way." They walked silently through the street and stopped outside a very familiar building: The Capsule Hotel.

Aizawa grinned at him. "I guess we're both pretty hopeless."

"You liked the ramen, remember? It used to be your favourite."

"I remember. How long you been here?"

Hizashi laughed, a little awkwardly. "A month. I … wasn't really sure if you wanted to see me or not, so…"

"I'm … glad you did. We have a lot to discuss."

They headed inside, past the busy doorman, and were soon at the 6th floor, staring at the old vending machine together. The place was still completely empty. Hizashi ordered them the same ramen as last time, although when he went to get them coffee from the other vending machine, Aizawa stopped him.

"I'll have water." Hizashi was surprised, but didn't question it as he ordered them both a bottle of water. Aizawa chose a different table to last time, and Hizashi joined him with their food. As he sat down, Aizawa said, "So, a cappuccino was your favourite all along."

"Have you seen my taste in men?" Hizashi asked with a playful grin. "I clearly have simple tastes." Aizawa gave him a look and he laughed, but then his face softened. "You're the one who assumed I'd like something fancy when I asked for your recommendation, barista. I never visited the same place twice because, back then, I didn't think I _deserved_ to drink my favourite coffee. People never imagined a guy as colourful as me would want anything less than the most colourful drink on the menu, so… You're the first to ever make me a simple cappuccino."

He shrugged. "I had more chances than most."

"It was silly," Hizashi said as he sipped his water. "I didn't deserve to put myself through that unnecessary daily tedium. What difference did it make in the end? I just ended up wasting years of my life that could've been spent enjoying my favourite coffee." He looked out the window, his face nostalgic. "Life was already hard enough: I didn't need to make it any harder."

"I'm glad I discovered your favourite, in the end."

He turned back to him. "Nemuri told you about me."

The ex-hero nodded. "She told me about your progress every day, that you were doing everything you could. I talked with Mei about you as well, and Nezu. I knew you better than most, but they rarely took my advice, and when they did, only after a long process of careful consideration. I … wanted to see you, but they were … worried. I was worried too."

"It's okay. Your letters… helped, as concise as they were." Hizashi leaned forward. "So, tell me about this army of cats."

He scratched the back of his head. "I only have two cats – Boots and Puddles. I've taken good care of them." Aizawa pulled out a (new) phone and showed him some photos. Boots looked mostly the same – albeit fatter than she'd been before – while the other cat was completely black and missing a front leg. They looked pampered and happy, and (judging by the number of photos) they were treasured. "We found Puddles and adopted her."

We? So, he and Nemuri? "What happened to the other two? Hitoshi and Eri, right?"

Aizawa looked a little embarrassed. "They're my kids…" Hizashi stared at him in complete disbelief. "Adopted, of course."

"…You… adopted _kids? _You mean like, English 'kids', as in _baby goats_ here, right? Not living, breathing _human _kids, _right_?"

Aizawa flicked the phone screen a few photos over and showed him an image of a young man with purple hair and a girl he'd seen at the café earlier. "This is Hitoshi and this is Eri. He's twenty, while Eri has just turned eleven. They … helped me through some tough times. Them, Nemuri, and antidepressants."

Hizashi was completely dumbfounded. "I'm … actually … _impressed_." He laughed, incredulously. "Wow … Two kids…"

"What helped you?"

"Mei," he listed, "therapy, and having a purpose." He couldn't stop himself from grinning stupidly.

So, at the end of the day, love had still saved them both. It hadn't been romantic love, that had roared hungrily like an unquenchable wildfire; it had been a softer love. His friendship with Mei, and Aizawa's familial love for his two adopted children.

A memory surfaced unexpectedly. "Your son- … Ah, Hitoshi, called the radio station, right?"

Aizawa grinned. "He did. They … got me a cat-themed dressing gown with matching slippers and put your name on it."

His face grew hot. "You told them about me?"

"Hitoshi knows practically everything, although Eri only knows the better parts. Nemuri gave us access to your show so we could listen to it at home, although I was under a strict don't-contact-Hizashi-at-all rule. Hitoshi really wasn't supposed to call, but… I gave him the second song suggestion."

It _had _been Shouta… He was about to ask whether the song choice had held any deeper meaning, but he stopped himself. Did it even matter now? His love was sitting across from him and they were _talking. _Instead he asked, "You let an eleven-year-old listen to my villain radio show?"

"No, I let her listen to it when she was ten, and it's your _ex_-villain radio show. Besides, as much as you swear outside the recording booth, I knew you'd keep the language and themes PG. She might be the only one alive who thinks you're funny."

Hizashi smiled warmly. "I was wrong about you: I bet you're a great dad."

"I try." He pulled out a piece of paper – the letter. "I read it."

His stomach clenched. "What did you think?"

"Very concise," he said with a wry smile. "I still can't listen to that song. Wish I'd chosen one that was less popular, but beggars can't be choosers. There was a lot I wanted to tell you, in every letter I wrote, but… I'm not good with that sort of thing."

He shivered and glanced down. "Sho … I'm _sorry_. Five years ago, we were both in a bad place, and I took advantage of that. I was obsessive, and sadistic, and … You_ know_ how bad I was."

"I was bad too," Aizawa said softly, rubbing his neck. "I should've arrested you as soon as I knew you were a villain. I should've tried to get you – _us _– professional help, instead of thinking I could save you if I just … _punched_ you hard enough."

"I wanted you to win…"

"I know."

"You're not a hero anymore…"

He rotated his left arm and robotically flexed his right hand, his expression thoughtful. "I'm not a pro-hero anymore, but just 'cause I don't go out and beat up bad guys doesn't make me any less of a hero. I'm not a one-trick pony. There're other ways to save people."

"Like with Hitoshi and Eri?"

He nodded. "Hitoshi was old by adoption standards, but he had nowhere else to go, and everyone else was scared of Eri's Quirk. I've done all I can to give them a loving home, and to do that I've had to get my life in order. I learned how to cook, how to take care of an apartment, what to do if one of them gets sick, and remembered to take my medication. I had to attend PTA meetings _without _slipping into a coma, and as someone who has technically been in a coma before, I'd rather the coma, but I did it for them."

"Still, I'm so sorry, Sho," he said as he bowed his head, shoulders trembling as he figured out exactly what he wanted to say. "I'm so sorry for the way I beha-"

"Zashi," he interrupted sharply, "stop. We're_ both_ to blame for what happened, so let's skip the 'Sorry's. All I want is to know you've changed; that you're no longer a danger to my kids or me."

Hizashi smiled sadly. "What about all that talk of burning bridges?"

"It's bullshit," he said firmly, surprising the blond with the sudden curse. Aizawa reached out and took his hands in his. "You don't _need_ me anymore, and I don't_ need_ you either." It was like his talk with Nemuri – Shouta had thought about this just as much as he had. "We can exist apart… but… I _want _you. I want you in my life. I want you in my kids' lives. I'm a good dad, Zashi, but Eri could really do with another role model, one who gets her things even if they _don't _have cats on…"

Hizashi's face felt hot. "Like… If I was your boyfriend again?"

"'Again'? When did we break up?" Hizashi snorted, and when Aizawa spoke again his voice was more serious. "We'll take things slow. I'll take you on dates, and we can watch movies together, and I'll make you as many cappuccinos as you want. I think I'm a decent catch now…"

"Come on," he said with a goofy grin, "_I _was the one who stabbed _you: _let me take you on some dates too."

"If you'd still want me in _your _life, of course…"

Hizashi moved their seats together. "Sho… I _love_ you. I've thought about you every single day for five years, about the good times and the bad. I know you've undoubtably changed since then, as I know I have, but … I want to know you again. All I want is a chance to find out if you're still you, if we can still-"

Aizawa kissed him.

It was cautious, and shy, and felt exactly like a first kiss, which – in a way – it was. It lasted only a few moments, before they forced themselves to pull away. Their eyes met, their faces so familiar yet so foreign.

They were still so close. Hizashi could feel the man's warm breath against his lips, and just like that they were kissing again. Too much teeth, and too much tongue, too much saliva and hair pulling and utter desperation, yet it felt so _right _and _necessary _and _loving._

They pulled their lips apart and pressed their foreheads together as they tightly embraced. "I missed you," Aizawa whispered against him.

Hizashi nodded, emotions swirling inside him. "I'm better, Sho. _We're _better. I want our third option. I want it so fucking badly. We can go on more dates, and I don't care if they're_ all_ disasters, as long as I get to spend every one with you. I'll make bad jokes – the worst jokes you can possibly imagine - and you'll pretend they're not funny, but your lip will twitch and I'll know what you really think. We'll watch bad CGI movies on the couch with Boots and Puddles and Hitoshi and Eri – even if they don't want to, 'cause that's what families do - and we'll both get to come home to the coolest people alive. You can make me a cappuccino every morning, or any other coffee you've been dying to make, and every night we'll sleep in the same bed like a normal couple, and I'll sleep without my hearing-aids because I trust you and I trust _me_. We can't pretend the past never happened, we _shouldn't, _but I want to keep doing better. I want a_ life _with you, Sho, and I wish I'd taken that chance five years ago, but I was an utter idiot and-"

Aizawa silenced him with another kiss. He pressed their faces firmly together – forehead to forehead, cheek to cheek, nose to nose, scar to scar. "I'll take care of you, Hizashi Yamada, and you'll take care of me."

Hizashi sniffled, "Third option?"

"No, Hizashi, because now you also get to help me rein in two problem children."

"I thought Hitoshi was twenty."

"He'll forever be my problem child." Aizawa pulled back and kissed him on the forehead. "This is our_ thirteenth _option, and I don't regret not having the other twelve."

Hizashi kissed him again and damn he never wanted to stop kissing him. He loved everything about it, even if he missed the scratchiness of his stubble. Their hands were roving, feeling, touching, caressing, trying to memorise every dip and arch after so long apart. His mind and body were going crazy. He wanted so much more. Hizashi pulled away, panting, "Sho… Can we not take our time, just for tonight?" The blond pressed his body close to his and huskily whispered in his ear, voice perhaps a little too desperate, "I _want _you~"

He felt the ex-hero shiver against him, and his arms held him tighter, closer, ever so nicer. "Don't think we'll get the chance once we head home…"

Hizashi pulled away with a wicked grin, "I have a solution." He dragged him out the room and Aizawa followed him closely, but paused when they stopped outside an empty capsule. "This is my 'room'."

Aizawa stared at it dully. "You'll have to keep quiet."

"I can manage." He unlocked it, pulled him inside, shut the door and drew the curtain. As soon as that was done, Aizawa pulled him close and pressed him into the mattress as he resumed kissing him with everything he had.

The blond gave as good as he got, wrapping his arms and legs around him while rubbing their hips together. It had been a trying five years, apparently for the both of them, and it didn't take much touching and kissing to spark a reaction where it mattered.

Hizashi's glasses were carefully removed and Aizawa pressed their faces together, taking a moment just to hold him close. "I didn't even…" he said quietly, pausing as if he were trying to word everything properly. "I meant what I said, Hizashi. I've never loved anyone like I love you. I didn't try. I didn't know your time was being lessened, but… I haven't been with anyone else."

Hizashi laughed and kissed him more chastely, "I didn't really have much option, but you were the only one I thought of." He swallowed thickly and batted his eyes up at him as he carefully rocked their hips together. "I could only ever imagine you touching me," he purred out, "kissing me, fucking me until I wanted to scream. I never thought… I didn't let myself hope you ever would again, but…"

"Show me."

Hizashi shivered. "Huh?"

He kissed him, but it was too brief to be in any way satisfying. "Lube?" Hizashi nodded and pulled a small half-empty bottle from a bag in the corner of the pod. Aizawa grinned when he noticed it. "Looks like you use it a lot." He nibbled at his neck and Hizashi purred at the contact.

"I do," he said huskily, "pretending it's you~"

"Show me," he said again, and Hizashi finally understood what he'd meant. He grinned and nodded as the chaos of clothe removal began. Aizawa paused once Hizashi's shirt was off, however, as his eyes traced over his arm where the caltrops had left several scars across his skin. He tenderly trailed his left hand over each mark, his eyes glazed and suddenly unfocused.

Hizashi shivered beneath the touch and interrupted it by tugging at Aizawa's dress shirt. It was time to confront what he had done. The ex-hero came back to reality just enough to let him begin to unbutton it, but there was a hesitation, a fear, in the act. Hizashi stopped immediately. "Sho… If you're uncomfortable, we shouldn't d-"

He was silenced by a tender kiss. "I want this, Zashi. I promise I do, it's just… We both have a lot to work on, but we can do it together."

Hizashi ran his hands through Aizawa's hair, his heart hammering away against his ribcage. "We'll work through it," promised the blond. "We'll … have time, right? To work through everything between us?" The ex-hero smiled slightly and nodded, and Hizashi returned the smile. "We'll go slower."

"We can set milestones, to make sure we're not rushing."

Hizashi chuckled and said, "Logical." He leaned up and kissed the ex-hero on the tip of his nose. "We won't go all the way tonight, but… we can do other things instead, and just… start milestones tomorrow."

The ex-hero grinned. "Fine, but I still want to watch you prepare yourself."

"That can definitely be arranged." He kissed him again and they finally pushed off Aizawa's shirt, revealing his additional scars from the nightmare that had been their fight.

They made Hizashi tremble. A star-shaped burn on his right elbow, a sharp line above his collarbone, a precise rise just beside his spine, and the worst one…

A jagged scar above his navel that stretched over his abs. Hizashi looked at it for far too long, only interrupted when Aizawa cupped his face and made him lock eyes. His thumb shakily ghosted over the muzzle scar on Hizashi's left cheek.

"It's okay," whispered Aizawa as he rocked their hips together, forcing Hizashi to stifle a moan. "We'll get through it."

His eyes caught onto something else, a flash of silver, and he realised what it was with utter amazement. "That necklace…" Aizawa was wearing a small silver chain, with a round pendant at its end:** H**. "You still have it?"

"I don't take it off usually," he admitted. "It… means a lot to me."

The ex-villain pulled him into a more fervent kiss, putting all his emotions into it as ravenous hands slipped down and tugged away pants and underwear. Aizawa's right hand stroked his hair, the act comforting and tender. Something was placed in Hizashi's hand and he realised numbly that it was his bottle of lube. Without any more prompting, he spread a decent amount across three fingers and moved them to his own entrance, pushing two in with little resistance – he'd been doing this _a lot_ since he'd been out.

He closed his eyes automatically, to imagine those fingers belonged to Aizawa, but he was instantly reminded of his current dream-come-true when lips sucked at his neck. He moaned in the back of his throat, and felt the bottle of lube get taken from his left hand. "Sho~" Hizashi cooed quietly as he buried his fingers as deep as possible, growing used to the sensation.

Warmth pressed against his length, and it took him far too long to realise Aizawa had pressed their shafts together while wrapping his good hand around them both. He didn't pump Hizashi's dick, just used his hand to lightly squeeze them together as he rocked his own hips back and forth. Their chests brushed against each other and the ex-hero was still kissing and sucking at his neck, earning a breathy moan from Hizashi.

Right, he had to be quiet. Thankfully, he had the perfect Quirk for being near silent.

"Sho~" he moaned as he lowered the volume on his voice.

The raven-haired man paused briefly, before he leaned down and captured his lips in a wet kiss that made Hizashi purr. He searched for his own prostate with his fingers, teasing the area first to heighten the pleasure of Aizawa's dick rubbing against his.

The nicest part, however, was the scent: warm coffee and cheap shampoo and Shouta Aizawa's sweat. He'd forgotten the heady smell, had only remembered the reek of blood and fire and wetness, but for the first time since he'd left the prison, he truly felt free.

Shouta smelled like home.

"Zashi~" moaned the man against him, his right hand combing through his hair. He trembled at the voice and inserted his third finger, purring as the man moved faster against him. Fuck, it was so much better than his imagination. He loved this man so much, so much, and he never wanted to hurt him again. He didn't care what milestones the man wanted to set: he would adhere to them without question. Hizashi was lucky, so lucky, to have this chance.

He hooked his fingers against his prostate, the pleasure mounting, although he tried to contain it for as long as possible. However, that was easier said than done when Shouta moved his lips down and bit one of his nipples. "Fuck~" moaned Hizashi, voice still impossibly quiet as he bucked his hips into Aizawa's hand for extra stimulation.

-o-

His scent was different. He no longer wore any expensive cologne or hair gel. He still smelled of books, at least, and that was somehow enough. This was Hizashi Yamada and his heart swelled.

He still made the best expressions as Aizawa thrust against him. It would've been so easy to pull Hizashi's hand away and enter him, to take him hard, to sate the need to physically claim him and bury himself deep inside his lover after all this time, but Aizawa didn't think he was mentally ready for that just yet. Doing this was already too much, but not doing anything would've been worse.

He captured Hizashi's reddened lips in a fierce kiss and pumped his hips hard. They groaned into each other's mouths, and the shudders that wracked the ex-villain's body told him he was close to finishing. A few more thrusts, and his observation was deemed correct. The blond's free arm clung to him desperately as he came across their chests, shuddering and bucking his hips uncontrollably against Aizawa's length and his good hand.

He methodically squeezed to add additional pleasure to Hizashi's climax but, although he was close, he hadn't reached his own. While the blond was dazed, Shouta released him and rediscovered the bottle of lube, pouring a generous amount between Hizashi's supple thighs.

The blond moaned breathlessly beneath him, clearly surprised by the unexpected sensation, and Aizawa pressed Hizashi's lubricated thighs together. He rubbed his length against the warm vice, before he slowly slid between them. He'd never tried intercrural sex before, but Hizashi made no complaints as he rocked in and out of the tight press. If anything, Hizashi was quite happy to buck his legs back against Aizawa's thrusts, the pleasure subtle enough to not be jarring after the recent climax.

Aizawa'd already been close, so it only took a few more ragged thrusts between his firm thighs to bring him over the threshold. His own cum streaked across Hizashi's chest, creating a sight that was adulterous and sinful and everything he could ever want in that single moment.

Aizawa released his thighs and wrapped his arms around him, as tight as possible, as he pulled him into a passionate kiss, pressing and pushing their chests together, as if the one kiss was meant to make up for the five years lost between them.

They fit so perfectly in each other's arms, even after all this time, and he'd forgotten how nice it felt for their bodies to be pressed together. Neither was completely sated, but there was a silent agreement between them that it would be more than enough, and Aizawa cleaned them down with tissues from the bag. The air was clammy in the pod, and smelled of their sweat, but as they cuddled against each other they didn't mind.

"Milestones," Hizashi said, his voice still quiet, and Aizawa nodded. "So, this is our first date. We went a little over our heads, like two dumb teenagers, but that's okay."

"In three days, we can do a second date: nice restaurant, and a movie."

"Movie first, so then we can talk about it while we have dinner." The blond nuzzled against him. "Then after three more days, we can go on our third date: an amusement park. We'll go through the haunted house and I'll pretend I'm scared so I can cling to you, and when we're at the top of the Ferris Wheel I'll tell you how much I like you."

"At what point would I tell you about my kids?"

"As we're leaving the amusement park, of course. You'll stop me, and act like it's some big secret, and you'll be worried that I'll break up with you upon finding out, but instead I'll kiss you and ask if I can meet them on our fourth date."

He nodded. "Fourth date: family date to the aquarium."

"Fifth date: family day to the beach. We can stay at a place for a few days too and, upon realising how nice it is to cohabitate, you'll ask if I want to move in with you."

"Zashi…"

The blond took Aizawa's right hand in his and tenderly kissed the scars, just as he'd once imagined he would. "Maybe one day, we'd even…" He didn't say it, but his lips brushed against his ring finger, and Aizawa caved.

"Meet them tonight," he said, and Hizashi looked at him in surprise. "And while all those dates sound nice, and we'll do them all, I don't want to wait for you to move in – it _is _your apartment, after all."

The blond smiled and Aizawa felt lightheaded. "One week then. I'll move in with you in one week's time, and every day until then I'll come over for dinner so the kids can get to know me. Logical?"

"Logical." Aizawa placed a kiss on his forehead. "I love you, and I'm proud of you, Zashi."

The blond was the one who pressed their faces together this time, the act simple yet meaningful. "I love you too, Sho. Words can't describe how happy you make me, but I promise to spend every day proving it to you."

-x-

Aizawa opened the door for him, and Hizashi came face to face with what had once been his own apartment.

Just like Hizashi and Shouta, it had changed considerably over the past five years.

The walls were cluttered with framed photos and childish drawings that must've had a special place in Aizawa's heart. The largest photo was from a ceremony, and it wasn't difficult to guess it was from Hitoshi's UA graduation, judging by the apparel and posing. Most photos were of Shouta's daughter, or of the son with a bunch of friends, but there were several of Shouta as well, and many of all three together.

Judging by the state of the kitchen, they weren't the cleanest trio, but it could've definitely looked a lot worse.

What really caught him off-guard, however, were the festive decorations. Hizashi had rarely had company, so he'd never bothered to buy anything for Christmas celebrations, but seeing how nice everything looked, he added that to his list of regrets. They'd bought a large, fake tree and covered it from top to bottom in baubles, and flashing lights, and ornaments, while every single present underneath it was coated in some cat-themed variant of wrapping paper. At its height was a star, although they'd glued a photo of Boots and Puddles to its surface to make it sentimental. Fairy lights lined the walls, along with tinsel and five Christmas stockings: Hitoshi, Eri, Boots, Puddles, Dad.

"I'm home," called Aizawa.

The girl with white hair came rushing over to greet them, wearing pyjamas and a pair of cat ears. "Welcome home!" she called as they entered. Aizawa had sent them a text beforehand informing them of his guest, so she wasn't surprised by the sight of Hizashi entering just behind him.

"You're not supposed to bring them home to meet your parents on a first date, young man," called a wry voice Hizashi had once heard over the phone. On the couch was Hitoshi, _also _wearing a pair of cat ears. "Meow, by the way."

Hizashi's mouth stretched into a grin. "What a wonderful cat-family you have," he said, restraining his laughter. "Thought you said you had two kids, but all I see are cats."

Aizawa rolled his eyes and closed the door behind them. "This is Eri and Hitoshi."

"I'm Hizashi Yamada," the blond introduced, "although apparently your father has already told you _everything_ about me."

There was a tell-tale jingle and ecstatic meowing as Boots rushed over to greet them, with Puddles limping just behind her. Hizashi knelt down to eagerly greet his (fat) cat, although at this stage Shouta had been her owner far longer than he had ever been. Even so, she seemed to remember him, judging by the way she cuddled close and purred like a car engine. Hizashi held both felines tenderly, failing to notice the looks of instant approval from Eri and Hitoshi.

"Hizashi used to own the place," said Aizawa. "In a week he's moving in, but he'll be over for dinner every night until then."

"I'd promise to rescue you from your father's cooking," said Hizashi cheerily, "but I'm a little out of practise myself."

"I'll give you the tour!" said the girl, bubbling with enthusiasm. "But first, can I have your autograph?" She held up a marker and her hand. "I love your show!"

"Hey, didn't you hear what I just said?" grumbled Aizawa. "He's going to be _moving in."_

Hizashi laughed and waved at Shouta as he took the offered marker. "Don't worry, _Dear Listener, _I'll be more than happy to give you my autograph!" He signed the back of her hand and her crimson eyes dazzled with joy.

"I should get you to sign my Artificial Vocal Cords," said Hitoshi as he pulled himself from the couch. "Apparently, you helped with the design."

The ex-villain remembered back to a bundle of blueprints and a joyous brainstorm session with Mei. "Oh, that was for you? What'd you think?"

"Don't know how you did it all, but it's great. Love the attachable microphones." He offered his hand to Hizashi and he firmly shook it. "Hitoshi Shinsou, but you can call me Hitoshi. I know we're just meeting, but the old man never stops talking about you."

"I'd say I hope it was all good stuff, but I won't kid myself."

Shinsou rolled his shoulders in a shrug, and a hand grabbed him by the arm as Eri dragged Hizashi off to give him the grand tour. The place had certainly changed a lot – the two guest bedrooms now belonged to the 'kids', while they'd turned the gutted lab into a training area and a study. His recording booth looked mostly untouched, however, with the only difference being two familiar toy cats that sat on the swivel chair.

Once they were alone, Eri stopped and gave him the brightest smile he'd ever seen. "Are you and Dad gonna get married?"

He blinked down at her, surprised by the question, but it didn't take him long to decide on an answer as he mirrored her smile with his own. "Maybe one day. If he ever asked, I wouldn't even hesitate, but we haven't seen each other in a long time, so…"

There was a gap between he and Shouta, just as there always had been. However, it wasn't a chasm that needed crossing: it was a small space that they could fill in with time, and trust, and love. There was not a single doubt in his mind it would soon be gone. They would fill it together.

"Should I call you Ma or Papa?"

He paused, but leaned down so he was level with her height. His smile was soft and tender. Option Thirteen: spend the rest of his life with Shouta Aizawa, unconditionally loving him and supporting their two children. Yes, that sounded perfect. That sounded like the happy ending they all deserved.

"Call me Papa."


	36. Epilogue

Epilogue

One Year Later

Aizawa was awoken by a kiss on the forehead, and a hand running through his hair. "Hey," quietly cooed his lover. "You ready to get up, baby?"

The ex-hero grunted and rolled over, too tired to comprehend the gentle words. "Sleeping," he mumbled. Today was his day off work, after all, so-

That hand didn't stop running through his hair, and his lover simply laughed. "Okay, get some sleep. I'll get you when breakfast's ready, 'kay?"

He grunted, but the other man didn't leave right away. The hand continued to brush through his black hair, and he found himself sleepily smiling as it lulled him back to unconsciousness.

Soon, however, he was woken again.

"Breakfast's ready." Soft lips pressed against his unscarred cheek, and even though he would've loved to stay in bed, he remembered the busy day that lay in store.

Aizawa grabbed the man's wrist and pulled him down so he could clumsily press their faces together, despite the other's glasses. His lover was taken by surprise, but an affectionate laugh soon filled the air, and as always it was the nicest sound he'd ever heard.

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and today was… "'Appy annivers'ry," he mumbled sleepily.

His lover pecked him on the lips. "Happy anniversary too, babe."

"Your show run late?" Aizawa asked, his voice a tad clearer.

"Yeah," he answered softly and kissed him again. "Didn't get home 'til 1am. Did I wake you?"

"No." He ran his right hand through silken blond hair, even though the haptic senses were minimal: the hint of softness was still pleasant. "It's gonna be crowded."

His lover pulled away, a playful pout on his lips.

Hizashi Yamada was still an eyesore, but in all the best ways. His thick glasses perfectly framed his beautiful emerald eyes, his hair was wrangled into a cute, messy bun, and although his clothing choices still gave him migraines, he adored the fact Hizashi could wear whatever he wanted and still look amazing. The moustache _did _admittedly make him look like a gay dad, but Shouta could never grow his facial hair beyond rough black stubble, so he had to give his lover credit for that alone.

"I know it's gonna be busy, but it's our anniversary, and this is literally the only day we were _all_ able to get off together. Eri's on school break, Hitoshi isn't working until tonight, Kaminari got the day off, Nemuri got the day off, Mei got the day off, and the café gave you the day off. I had to reschedule my therapy for next week, and you just _know_ she's going to blame you if I'm more talkative than usual."

Aizawa yawned, but pulled himself to his feet as he went to get dressed, only to find some clothes already set out for him. The blond could be so over attentive sometimes, but Shouta had no reason to complain – he loved that about him. "I bet she already knows what a terrible boyfriend I am," he said, his face deadpan as he pulled on the loose black shirt. It was something nice, but comfortable, and he had zero complaints with Hizashi's selection.

"Don't you know all I ever do is complain about you~?" He wrapped his arms around Aizawa's waist and pressed against his back as he gently purred. "Letting me sleep without hearing-aids, making me smile way too much, making me great coffee every- Oh wait, you haven't made me my coffee yet! One strike~!" Hizashi's hands moved up and massaged his shoulders, and that feeling alone was heaven.

Aizawa leaned into the sensation, pausing half-way through putting on his pants. "Guess I've been neglectful," he said dryly. "If I were you, I'd've broken up with me already."

"I _should_," joked the blond as he massaged him more, "but I guess I'm just way too _old_ to bother finding another handsome barista who can make a good cappuccino, who shares my love of cats _and_ good sex." He kissed him on the neck, teasingly, but they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Breakfast is getting cold," called Hitoshi from the other side, knowing better than to EVER open their bedroom door.

"Two seconds," Hizashi called back and kissed Aizawa's neck one more time before pulling away completely. Shouta finished hiking up his pants.

The blond leaned close to quickly tidy up his black hair, "Medication?"

Aizawa sighed, "Forgot last night…"

Hizashi rolled his eyes and grabbed the bottle from the bedside table. "Come on, baby, you need to wean yourself off slowly or else you'll go into withdrawal." He offered him the tablet, and Aizawa exhaled, but swallowed it without further complaint, earning himself a quick kiss. "My handsome man~ Once the doctor says it's okay, I'm taking you to all the best coffee shops in Japan. I know a bunch that you'll love!"

Aizawa grunted. It would be nice to drink coffee that wasn't decaf again.

Another knock on the door. "Last warning," called the underground hero from the living room.

"Yeah, yeah," Hizashi called, "we're coming, and not in a sexy way."

The blond had never been scared of Hitoshi's Quirk, not that Aizawa had feared he would be. Hizashi fit perfectly into his little family, and today at the museum, Shouta was planning to make his place official.

They finally left the bedroom to find Hitoshi and Eri already at the table, digging in without them, not that it was such an unusual sight with their weird schedules. Eri was nearing the end of Elementary School in March and would begin Junior High come April, while Hitoshi was already planning to move out with Kaminari once they found an apartment.

Even though they'd had several years without Hizashi, after only one it was impossible to imagine their family without him. He always went with Hitoshi and Kaminari while they searched for their own place and he was a good mediator between the lovebirds (Aizawa had tried, but his suggestion that 'As long as it has a bed, it's fine' always went unappreciated).

Eri had taken a shine to him right away.

"Dad!" she called excitedly at the sight of Aizawa, and she got up to show off her outfit. "Is it nice?" Hizashi had bought her the dress for her recent 12th birthday, and the man was certainly better at picking out clothes for her than Shouta was, especially considering _everything _Shouta bought her was cat-themed.

Aizawa nodded, "It's a good fit." In other words, it looked comfortable, but she beamed at the compliment. He ruffled her styled hair, much to Hizashi's chagrin, and moved to make the morning coffees.

From a high shelf in the living room, two toy cats watched them: one ginger and one black. The decorated walls had twice as many framed photographs now, most featuring the four of them together, although there were a few of them both or just Hizashi. It felt nice having those sorts of pictures on the walls: you never really knew how amazing a photograph was until you didn't have one.

The blond neatened Eri's hair and gently pinched her nose, inciting a short laugh out of her as she sat back down and resumed devouring the large breakfast. "Mei and Nemuri are heading in together from Hero HQ," Hizashi said as he took his own place at the table, "and you said Kaminari will be here soon?"

Shinsou nodded, "I told him to arrive at seven."

Hizashi checked his watch. "It's nine."

"Exactly, so he should be arriving in about ten minutes."

"M'kay, but please tell me you're planning to shave first."

Hitoshi rolled his eyes as he grumbled, "I will, _Mum_. One hobo is enough for this household."

Aizawa finished brewing their coffee and brought the cups over to the table before he sat down. Hizashi rubbed their ankles together, in a silent thanks, as he sipped his cappuccino, and the ex-hero watched his lover's lips curl into a comforting smile.

Shouta ate his own breakfast, not minding at all that it was now a little tepid. Even though Aizawa had learnt how to cook (mostly for the benefit of his children), Hizashi was still the culinary expert between them, and Eri had been so amazed by the cat-themed birthday cake he'd made her that she'd cried tears of joy. On his free days, Hizashi was always baking something nice for his family.

Boots and Puddles moved around their feet, vying for both attention and any scraps, and Aizawa snuck them each a piece of grilled fish while Hizashi was distracted by a knock at the door. Kaminari had finally arrived. Once they'd all finished, they were out.

The train ride to the museum was uneventful, if packed. The two kept Eri close between them, protectively, but out of the blue she asked, "Papa, have you ever been to the museum before?"

Aizawa offered his boyfriend an amused grin, and Hizashi was clearly caught off-guard by the question. "Of course, hun. In fact, Dad and I went on our second date."

She beamed. "Did you steal anything? Were you a burglar?"

Aizawa snorted and Hizashi gasped in shock. "Me? A _burglar_? No sweetie, you should _never _steal from museums! Everything in a museum needs a lot of work to keep it pretty, and if it's on display there it means it's there to educate! Stealing that sort of thing and hording it would be completely against my- Sho, support me here!"

The ex-hero messed up Eri's hair, only giving the blond another heart attack. "I'll keep him in line."

Hizashi pursed his lips as he leaned down and fixed up her hair, but there was a playful smile hiding just behind his pout.

They arrived at the station to find Mei and Nemuri already waiting for them. "Not bad," said the R-Rated Hero, "you arrived on time for once."

"Did you use that new geo-locator and co-ordinate tracker system you were tinkering with the other day?" Mei asked Hizashi with a wide grin as she pulled out a charging cable.

The blond scratched his head as he sheepishly said, "Na, just used the transport app. I still need to log the train system and underground routes into the-"

"Zashi," Aizawa warned, sensing a spiel, "we can have this conversation while we're moving."

"I couldn't agree more!" Mei said as she shoved the charging cable into Kaminari's mouth. "Thanks in advance, my phone is super low!"

Kaminari blinked in surprise, and Shinsou made a face. "Can you _not_ put things in my boyfriend's mouth without his permission?"

Mei grinned even wider and that smile was almost identical to Hizashi's. "I'm sure he's used to it by now!" She turned to Eri and offered her a thumbs up, "Come on, let's go see some dinosaurs!"

Eri cheered and the two rushed ahead with Kaminari (and Shinsou, by default) dragging behind them. Nemuri laughed loudly, "Oh doesn't the passion of today's youth just get you _excited?" _There was steam wafting from her nostrils, and both remaining men rolled their eyes, but shared a look. She turned back to them and smiled more softly, "You look good."

Hizashi put an arm around Aizawa, and the ex-hero knew what was coming, judging by the wicked grin on his face. "I know, I've been making sure he's getting regular '_sun'_," he said as he pointed suggestively at himself.

Nemuri's face flushed darker. "Oh? You're giving him plenty of vitamin-_D."_

"I hate you both," murmured Shouta as he picked up Hizashi with his good arm and slung him over his shoulder. "Museum's this way."

"Well," said the blond, "I _was _about to complain, but I'm not arguing with the view from back here~" Aizawa felt his butt get lightly pinched, but he just responded by pinching him back, in a very non-sexy way, as they neared the museum. "Rude…"

Shouta put him down once they reunited with their gaggle of young adults (and one teen) and headed through the gardens. As they walked, the ex-hero couldn't help but look around and remember a night over six years ago, when he and a villain had dressed up and broken inside.

While he couldn't bring himself to be proud of doing it, he certainly didn't regret it. Aizawa had suggested they 'break out' the same outfits they'd worn – his biker gear and Hizashi's dress – but the blond had been against it. They weren't the same people from back then, and he didn't want to recreate old memories: he wanted to make new ones.

So, they'd all gone together. A world that'd once just been Shouta Aizawa had expanded to a family of seven, and although his family had come later in life, he loved them all dearly - especially his soon-to-be fiancé.

He lovingly watched Hizashi as he geeked out over the first dinosaur skeletons with Mei and Eri, and he couldn't stop himself from smiling at the sight.

"So, did you decide which section?"

Aizawa turned to Shinsou. Of course he wasn't the only accomplice. _Everyone_ except Hizashi knew he was going to propose, which was why he'd made sure they all got the day off. While the ex-hero would've typically been more private, it would've felt wrong to pop the question without their family around, and he imagined Hizashi would feel the same way. "Ancient Egypt."

Right, he'd been deciding where to propose and he'd been struggling between doing it in the Egyptian section or the Butterfly House, but had decided on the former. If they actually encountered a butterfly, Hizashi would definitely freak out, so the Egyptian section was a safe bet.

But first, they had to look at bones, spheres and rocks.

They reached a glass display of skulls that detailed human evolution. Hizashi and Aizawa both pointed at the same Neanderthal skull and simultaneously said, "It's you." They held composure for a good few moments, but soon surrendered to their toothy grins.

"I guess that proves my time machine will be a success," Hizashi said softly and took his hand.

Aizawa briefly pressed their temples together, "Quite an honour … to end up in a museum."

"Yeah, to have kids pointing at you…" They turned around and looked at Eri, Mei, Shinsou and Kaminari across the room. The twelve-year-old noticed their attention and eagerly waved that they were heading to the next section without them. Hizashi laughed. "Sounds like the dream."

"A dream come true," Aizawa conceded. Hizashi laughed again, and fixed up the ex-hero's 'H' necklace.

"You really _have _gotten sappy."

"I blame you."

"I fully respect that decision." Hizashi led him to the next room, and found Mei already lecturing the rest of the group about the differences between the hydrosphere, the lithosphere, the asthenosphere and the atmosphere. Aizawa yawned and the blond pulled him to a soft sofa in the less-crowded part of the room. "We can let them enjoy this one at their leisure, baby," Hizashi said as he offered him his shoulder.

Aizawa leaned against him contently, and the ex-villain's hand ran through his thick, black hair. "You know me so well," he murmured. Hizashi kissed him on the forehead and the tired man rested his eyes while the others learned about the planets without them.

Twenty minutes later, and they were finally in the next room, looking at rocks. Eri grabbed their hands and pulled them to a small display of different gems and precious stones, and she pointed at an emerald. "Isn't it pretty?" she said eagerly. "Just like your eyes, Papa!"

Hizashi hummed, tucking a bit of her fringe behind her ear. "Really? I guess I do have pretty eyes." He winked at Aizawa, and then pointed at an onyx. "Here's Dad's."

She giggled and pointed at a ruby, "And mine!"

"Which is your favourite?"

"Diamonds!"

Hizashi snickered, "You have expensive tastes. Come on, they have a room over here with rocks that glow under ultraviolet light." They made their way past the blackout curtain into the dark room, lit only by the purple ultraviolet glow. It was crowded, so Hizashi and Aizawa ended up pressed against the wall so there'd be enough room for Eri. Hizashi affectionately nuzzled his neck. "Brings back a lot of memories," he said, only loud enough for Shouta to hear.

The ex-hero held him tight and closed his eyes. "I prefer this."

Hizashi said nothing, but nodded his approval.

"Here you are," said the voice of Shinsou as his head popped in from beyond the curtain. "We going to the Ancient Egyptian section?"

"Yeah!" Hizashi cheered as he pulled Aizawa and Eri from the small, crowded room. "Let's go find out about ancient cats!"

Eri joined in the cheer and soon their patchwork family was entering the next exhibit. Just as planned, the others backed off a little to give Hizashi and Aizawa some space, although he noticed Mei and Shinsou pulling out their phones in preparation – they'd insisted they get it on video.

Shouta and Hizashi stared at the empty sarcophagus together, their hands joined, and just like last time the blond looked distant as he eyed the wonderous coffin. However, it was Aizawa who said those words from that night. "Doesn't it make you feel small?"

Hizashi looked at him, as if startled, but his face fell into a sad smile. "This sarcophagus is thousands of years old. It's … impossible to comprehend that length of time, or the things its seen. It makes everything feel kinda _meaningless_, in the grand scheme of things. It … makes five years feel like nothing…"

"They weren't nothing," Aizawa said reassuringly. "They were trying, for the both of us, but they were … necessary."

For a moment he thought the blond would disagree, but instead he pulled something from his jacket and placed it in Aizawa's hand. "They were, because now we have a lifetime together… right?"

The ex-hero stared at the small box, taken by complete surprise. He looked to the rest of his family, and the sly grins on all their faces told him _they had known all along._

Aizawa turned back to Hizashi and grinned. "Aren't you supposed to get down on one knee?"

The blond snickered, his smile wholesome and beautiful as he turned to completely face him. "Do you want me to?"

"Depends," Aizawa said as he pulled a small box from his own back pocket and squeezed it into Hizashi's hand, catching him by complete surprise as well. "Want me to go on one knee too?"

The coolest man alive looked up at him, his gorgeous emerald eyes wide with awe, and then he was _laughing. _Damn, that was still the most amazing sound he'd ever heard. "We're _hopeless_," Hizashi said between laughs, knocking their foreheads together. "Complete and utter disasters. Did you know?"

"No," he said, a bit of laughter making its way into his voice as well, "but I'm guessing everyone else did." Hizashi pulled him into an eager kiss as they held each other tightly. Their lips eventually parted, but Aizawa didn't let them pull away completely as he pressed their faces firmly together: forehead to forehead, nose to nose, cheek to cheek, scar to scar. "Guessing that's a yes?"

"God, you're such a hopeless moron sometimes." Hizashi kissed him again.

"You'll just have to tell your therapist what a terrible _fiancé _I am."

"Oh, she's going to hear _everything_."

Aizawa's hands reached up and gently cupped his face, even though he still had the engagement box between his fingers. "We're going to be okay, Zashi."

The blond nodded and pressed his hands over Aizawa's. "We're going to be more than okay, Sho, because I'm gonna be with you, through sickness and in health, through the good and the bad, through _everything_. We're going to be more than okay, Sho, because we're gonna be together."

Aizawa kissed him, and then they were surrounded by their loved ones.

"I helped Dad pick out the ring!" claimed Eri as they finally pulled away.

Hizashi couldn't stop grinning as he opened it, and laughed. It was a gold ring, with a small diamond surrounded by two onyx crystals. Aizawa took it from the box and used his scarred right hand to clumsily slip it on his lover's finger. It was a perfect fit. The blond sniffled and rubbed at his face before the tears even fell. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry, but it's so beautiful…" He pulled Eri and Aizawa into a tight hug, and he was trembling.

"I was debating getting you one with a cat on," the ex-hero said dryly, "but Eri thought you'd like something more traditional."

"Well, I had Hitoshi, Mei _and _Eri help pick out yours, just to make sure it wouldn't give you any migraines." Hizashi winked. Aizawa opened his small box and inside was a simple gold ring with a flat emerald at its centre – the colour was the same as Hizashi's eyes.

He smiled warmly as the blond put it on him. "Now we just gotta plan the wedding," Aizawa said as he marvelled it.

Hizashi leaned up and kissed him, "Forget it. Let's elope, first chance after Christmas."

The barista grinned, "Sounds logical." He leaned over and ruffled Shinsou's hair and patted Mei on the shoulder. "Thanks, I can't imagine what atrocity he was trying to put on my finger… Tell me it isn't a tracker."

Mei grinned wider, "Do you _want _it to be a tracker?"

"Not the sort of _ring_ I would've helped pick out," said Nemuri with an unhelpful snicker. "But I'm glad the barista finally got his eyesore."

Yeah, that was what they were. Not a secretive underground pro-hero, or an extravagant villain with a vendetta. They were a tired barista and the coolest man alive: Shouta Aizawa and Hizashi Yamada, and that was all they needed to be…

Well, they were a family too. A small family that had taken years to build, that had come together through heartache and loss, but had come together nevertheless, and become _happy._

Aizawa didn't doubt, for even a moment, that they deserved this happiness. They'd been dragged through hell and back, but finally everything would be okay.

"Hey," Hizashi said softly as he kissed him on the forehead, "thank you."

"For what?"

"For being the first one to ever see the good in me." He pressed his face against his neck and wrapped his arms around him tightly. Even though the room was crowded, in that moment they were alone. "And I'm so thankful we were saved, that we found others who loved us, despite everything. I'm proud of us, Sho."

"We're here now, Zashi," Shouta told his fiancé, his face lit with an affectionate smile. "Not _despite_ everything, but _because_ of everything. Now we have our option thirteen."

To live, Aizawa had once needed the three basics: food, shelter, coffee. However, to actually **_live_**_, _he needed a lot more: family, friends, love. Copious amounts of love, in fact, whether it was platonic, or familial, or romantic, but he knew he'd never be without.

What he had now, with Hizashi Yamada, was total, pure, unconditional love.

As a kid, Aizawa had never imagined this would be his life at thirty-six, but here he was and he seldom complained.

"I love you," Hizashi whispered. "Although…"

He paused, and Aizawa lovingly caressed his scarred left cheek with his scarred right hand. "Although…?"

Hizashi kissed him for what felt like hours, but in reality was only a moment. When he pulled away, he was _laughing _and_ everything_ was perfect. "Although people will be mortified when they find out we're marrying after only one year. I bet they'll think we're rushing things~"

Shouta hummed thoughtfully and pressed their foreheads together, basking in Hizashi's all-encompassing warmth. "And risk having someone else steal you away? I don't think they'll blame us."

"For rushing things?"

"For the way we've behaved."

_The End_

* * *

Hey guys, hope you enjoyed the ride! It was a bit bumpy but everything worked out in the end! I'm planning to do a few more EraserMic stories in the near future, depending on work. I'm also technically an Indie author on Amazon with a book available titled 'The Hero of Hammersey' if you're interested in my writing! In any case, I hope you had fun with the feels! Thanks for all the wonderful reviews!

Best Regards,

Woolfy


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